


Harry Potter: The Prince of Atlantis

by Tylanoid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Justice League of America (Comics)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tylanoid/pseuds/Tylanoid
Summary: Harry Potter is not who he thinks he is. Unbeknownst to him, he is the son of Aquaman, King of Atlantis. Inspired by Nimbus Llewelyn's Child of the Storm. Features a blonde haired Harry. Harry Potter/Justice League AU





	1. Amnesty Bay

**Chapter 1 - Amnesty Bay**

 

It shouldn't be this hard to return home after a year at Hogwarts. All around Harry the rest of the students greet their well missed families with hugs and kisses, and Harry just walks slowly towards his annoyed looking uncle waiting for him on the platform. He feels none of the energy around him, none of the relief and joy of seeing his family again and the excitement for a fun summer. Instead he feels empty.

It's easier to feel nothing than to experience the dread of having to return to Privet Drive, especially given that for just a shining moment, he thought he'd never have to. But life has never been fair, and instead of moving out into the countryside with his godfather, instead Sirius is back on the run, hounded by dementors and aurors alike.

"Hurry up boy, I don't have all day," Vernon huffs when Harry's close enough to hear.

_Easy for him to say._ It's not like he's offering to help Harry with his year's worth of luggage and the owl cage that Harry has to cart along behind him. Nonetheless Harry picks up his pace, his suitcase clicking along behind him faster and faster. It wouldn't do him any favours to annoy his uncle so soon after leaving Hogwarts. Vernon has a long memory, and there's still seventy-three days before Harry gets to go back for his fourth year.

With only that as a greeting between them, Harry follows Vernon out into the King's cross carpark. Even from a distance he can see the impatient faces of Petunia and Dudley watching him from the car.

"Where am I supposed to put Hedwig?" Harry asks. The previous two years he's simply put her cage on the backseat of the car, but if Dudley and Petunia are here too, that's not really an option.

"That ruddy bird…" Vernon grumbles, clearly having forgotten. "We're going on a trip, she can't come with us."

_A trip?_

"So where is she meant to go?" Harry isn't able to rid the annoyance from his tone, and Vernon's nostrils flare.

"I don't particularly  _care_ where she goes, but she's not coming with us!" Vernon shout-whispers.

Harry lets out a steady breath. There's no point arguing with him. He's never won an argument with his uncle, and it's unlikely that's about to change now. It's probably better that Hedwig not be at Privet Drive anyway. At least if she's elsewhere she won't be stuck in her cage. Harry lets out a sigh and reaches down to unlock the cage door.

"Sorry girl, but you might have to go back to the Hogwarts owlery for a while," he says, reaching out to brush her feathers with the back of his hand. She nibbles affectionately at his fingers before jumping out of the cage and taking off into the sky.

"Hurry up, boy! We have places to be," Vernon says irritably. He squeezes his body into the driver's seat, and Harry grimaces as the entire frame of the car seems to groan in protest under the man's weight.

"What took you so long," Dudley says as Harry slides into the seat next to him.

Harry's gotten pretty good at ignoring his cousin over the years, so that's exactly what he does. Dudley faces screws up in annoyance, but he at least knows a losing battle when he finds one and he instead turns to begin chattering excitedly with his parents.

But Harry's already blocking them all out. Instead his mind is drifting back to the last words he spoke to Sirius before he watched him fly into the distance, much like it has in every free moment since.

"You have your mother's eyes," he'd said. Logically the statement shouldn't bother him at all - it's true after all, at least according to anybody who had ever met her. But Harry can't shake the feeling that there was something  _more_ underneath it, something else he'd wanted to say. Isn't it odd that Sirius mentioned Lily rather than James? Everything he'd heard had led him to believe that it was James that Sirius was close to, not Lily.

_Maybe he said it because I don't look anything like dad?_ As far as Harry can see, it would have been a complete lie for Sirius to note any similarities between him and his father. To his eyes, there are none. Whereas James' hair had been black and untidy, Harry's is golden blonde and wavy smooth. Where James' face was thin and had equally thin features, Harry's is more full, even if underfed, and his cheekbones are higher and more prominent. Sometimes it feels as though the only thing connecting the two of them is their quidditch position. He's even found himself wishing that he's near-sighted, just so that he's got  _something_ which he can relate to the man who gave his life for him.

Harry is shaken from his daydreams when a plane flies low over the car with a loud roar of it's engines. He follows it's path out the window and watches it land on the other side of a large fence.

"Wait, where are we actually going?" Harry asks. Vernon had said they were going on a trip, but he never would have expected it might be overseas.

"Haven't you been listening to a word we've been saying?" Vernon grumbles, catching Harry's eye in the rear-view mirror. "We're flying to Boston for a Boxing competition for Dudley."

Harry has so many questions he doesn't know which to ask first. He turns towards Dudley and  _really_ looks at him for the first time since getting in the car. He's clearly much healthier than the last time Harry saw him. He's still a big boy, but now he looks more densely packed with muscle than with puppy fat. It makes sense though. If anything was going to get Dudley to be healthier, its the thought of getting to punch people in the face without consequence.

"Well why do I have to go?" Harry eventually asks. "Couldn't I just stay back at Privet Drive?"

To his surprise, Vernon actually lets out a single laugh. "And have you infect our house with your  _freakiness_  while we're gone? I think not."

"But I-"

Vernon glares into the mirror. "Boy, you are coming with us and that is  _final,"_ he growls.

Harry slumps in his seat. Anybody else in his shoes might be excited to be visiting a foreign country, but going with the Dursley's wouldn't be anyone's idea of a fun family holiday.

 

* * *

 

The flight over was no more comfortable than Harry would have expected. He had a seat next to Dudley, who's sleeping form seemed to subconsciously recognise where Harry's ear was and snore directly into it for the majority of the flight. Still, it's probably better that his cousin did sleep rather than torment him for the almost eight hour flight.

No matter how much he tried, Harry couldn't sleep himself, not with Dudley's loud snoring next to him, and instead his mind drifted right back to the same scene with Sirius. He wants to believe that he's stressing about nothing, that he's got absolutely no evidence that anything is out of the ordinary. But for reasons beyond his comprehension, he can't accept that. Sirius had wanted to tell him something important. He's surer with every passing moment.

He thought about it all the way out of the airport, and all the way to the motel the Dursley's had organised just outside the city. He's still thinking about it the next morning when Dudley knocks into him the next morning when they head to Vernon and Petunia's room for breakfast.

"When are we going to Amesty Bay?" Dudley asks excitedly, throwing himself into a chair at the small round table in his parents room.

"That's  _Amnesty_ Bay, and we have to go to your boxing meets first. They'll be done in a few days, so we can go then," Vernon says.

"What's at Amnesty Bay?" Harry asks.

Dudley turns to face him with an unusually excited expression on his face. "There's a rumour going around that it's where Aquaman lives!" Dudley seems to remember who he's talking to and contorts his face into a sneer. "Don't you know anything?"

"Aquaman?" Harry raises an eyebrow.

Dudley lets out a huff. "Don't you have any TV at Pigwarts?"

Harry shrugs. "No, actually. Muggle technology doesn't work at  _Hogwarts."_

"Weird lot," Vernon mutters, not so quiet that he can't be heard. "Can't even keep up with basic technology."

"Actually, muggle technology doesn't work at Hogwarts, too much magic in-" Harry begins before Vernon cuts him off.

"Don't. Use. That. Word," he says, waving his spoon in the air with every overpronounced word. It's not quite as threatening as he seems to think.

Harry shrugs and looks pointedly away, unbothered. His lack of fear only seems to make Vernon angrier, his face growing more red with every passing second. Still, Harry pays him no attention, instead looking out the motel window at the skyline of Boston off in the distance.

"Dudley, Petunia, we're going. We have a boxing match to get to," he eventually grinds out through his teeth.

It's Harry's turn to frown now. "I'm not going with you?"

Vernon turns a furious glare on him. "Don't be absurd! You'll stay right here where you can't bother anyone."

Harry rolls his eyes. He doesn't know whether to be annoyed or thrilled. On the one hand he doesn't want to be stuck with the Dursley's all day, but nor does he want to be stuck in the motel room, either, especially since it's too far away from the city that he can do any exploring.

"What am I supposed to do all day?" Harry asks, throwing his hands into the air.

"As long as there's no  _funny_ business, I don't particularly care what you do. There's a TV in your room, watch that," Vernon says, cruel smile etched onto his face. "But you are  _not_ to leave the motel grounds."

"And food?" Harry asks, locking eyes with his uncle. "Should I just sit here and go hungry?" It wouldn't be too much of a surprise if that's exactly what his uncle expects of him.

Vernon grumbles and dives a thick-fingered hand into his pocket, pulling out a couple of paper thin notes and dumping them on the table. "There's a vending machine outside," he says. Without another word he steps through the door, urging Petunia and Dudley to follow him.

_Now what?_

 

* * *

 

The days that follow prove themselves less terrible than Harry had thought they might be. He's sick of being stuck in the motel room like a caged animal, sure, but having come to Boston straight from getting off the Hogwarts express means that Harry still has all his school things, so he can at least pass the time by getting his holiday homework out of the way. After two days work he's managed to finish it all off, probably faster even than Hermione has done hers.

More than just his schoolwork though, Vernon's suggestion that he watch TV wasn't actually a bad idea. He's never really been allowed to watch it back at Privet Drive, but now he can see why people enjoy it so much. It's from TV that he's learned why Dudley likes Aquaman so much. He's a character in an unusual movie about an alien invasion of Gotham City. It's an odd sort of film, told by way of a news story or documentary. Still, it's interesting, and Harry can see why Dudley admires the character so much. His character is quite incredible, being able to control sea life and having immense strength. He was even able to take out one of the alien Darkseid's eyes with his golden trident, along with the beautiful Wonder Woman.

Best of all is that he's only seen the Dursley's briefly at night when they return from the Boxing meets. They seem to have decided to ignore the fact that Harry is actually there at all, not that Harry is complaining. Whenever they return he simply minds his own business and keeps out of their hair. No communication, no problem.

But now Dudley's competition is over, and Dudley is excitedly pressing his parents to go to Amnesty Bay to visit the rumoured home of Aquaman, or, Harry assumes, the actor who plays him.

"How far away is it?" Dudley asks his father as they head towards the car.

"About an hour," Harry hears Vernon answer.

Despite the fact that Harry has enjoyed his freedom from the Dursleys' over the past few days, he wouldn't mind a bit of freedom from the motel room, too. Without a second thought, Harry rushes out the door behind them.

"Can I come?" he asks.

"We've been over this," Vernon growls, not even turning to look at him. He keeps moving to climb into the car anyway, as if that's enough of a reason not to take Harry along. To Harry's eyes, it's barely a reason at all. He ignores his uncle and moves to climb into the back seat anyway.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" Vernon spits.

"Coming along," Harry says matter of factly, sliding into the back seat besides Dudley. Vernon steams around the car and reopens the door.

"Get out," he says quietly, but Harry can see the vein almost popping on his temple. Vernon's clearly angrier than he has been in quite some time, but Harry's not about to give in now. It's too late now to prevent the anger anyway, whether he gives in or not, so he might as well press on.

"I'm not staying in that motel room again," Harry says.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not, whether I go with you or not, I'm not staying in that room again. But if I don't go with you, I might not find my way back. Do you really want to explain to Professor Dumbledore how you lost me in a foreign country?"

Vernon sputters, opening and closing his mouth several times, as if constantly changing his mind about what to say. He glares at Harry, but eventually steps back and slams the car door closed before stepping back around to the driver's seat of their rental car. Harry can't help but hide a sly smile. Vernon might not fear Harry, but someone as overtly magical as Dumbledore is still enough to make him back down.

"Dad, Harry can't come!" Dudley whines.

"Quiet Dudley," Vernon says, all quiet anger.

Before he drives off, he turns in his seat to look Harry square in the eyes. "I don't want to hear a  _word_ out of you the whole time."

Harry almost wants to add that there's an invisibility cloak in his bag if his uncle wants him to use it, but there's no point antagonizing the man further if he's already won. Instead he settles back into his seat, drowning out Dudley's whining to his father about Harry coming along.

 

* * *

 

Amnesty Bay, Harry decides, would be a very nice place to live. It's not very big, probably only populated by a few thousand people, but that's half the reason it's so appealing. It gives it a small-town vibe that you never find in any city, and it's main road only consists of a few stores located along a beachside street. He can see himself living somewhere like it one day, far away from the fame and chaos that seems to surround him back in magical Britain.

Of course, it would be far nicer if he wasn't currently sitting next to a still dreadfully upset Dudley, who even after an hour drive is still ranting about Harry being allowed to come. He's not let up even for a minute, despite the fact that Harry hasn't said as much as a single word in defence of himself.

To make matters worse, Vernon and Petunia are trying their usual method of appeasing him with promises of gifts and food, which usually only makes matters worse, since it lets Dudley know that he can simply keep going until they promise enough that he'll be satisfied.

They continue straight through Amnesty Bay and along the coast for a few more minutes until coming to an unassuming dirt road leading closer to the ocean. They arrive maybe half a minute later on a cliff side overlooking the ocean, a tall white lighthouse sitting on its edge. Connected at the base of the lighthouse is a small, cosy house.

Harry only spares the lighthouse a quick glance. What draws his attention is the ocean. He's dreamt about seeing it his whole life, but he's never once had the opportunity. Until now, the largest body of water he's ever seen is the Black Lake, but compared to this, it might as well be a puddle on a sidewalk. It seems to stretch out forever, as if the water never ends. It's not difficult to see why people thought the earth was flat for so long.

The water is oddly captivating. He steps out of the car when it stops and slowly walks over to the edge of the cliff, watching the waves roll over themselves leaving white froth in their place. Something about it calls to something deep in Harry, and he has to quell the urge to dive off the tall cliff and into the blue depths. Such a fall would undoubtable kill him, and even if it didn't, Harry has never been taught how to swim. Even so, it enchants him, but not in a worrying way. It feels right - natural.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognises that Dudley's yelling out and making a complete fool of himself, and invading someone's privacy to boot, but Harry's captivation is running so deep he can't even bring himself to care. It's not until Dudley is right next to him that Harry realises his cousin has been talking to him.

"What is the matter with you?" Dudley asks, crossing his arms firmly across his broad chest. "You were the one who just  _had_ to come along, and now you don't even want to see if Aquaman is in there?"

Harry rolls his eyes, annoyed to be torn away from the view. "You think I came to stare through his window? Guess it helps to actually  _have_ a sense of shame." It's probably not the smartest idea to insult Dudley when he's already volatile due to Harry mere presence, but being interrupted from his reverie of the ocean has him irrationally angry.

But Harry's anger might as well be nothing compared to Dudley's, whose face has contorted into a look of absolute rage. He wouldn't take an insult from Harry lying down on his best day, so he's certainly not going to on a day when he's already upset. Before Harry can do a thing to stop him he's stepping forward with a roar and shoving Harry with both hands.

What happens next seems to happen in slow motion. Harry stumbles back, and Dudley's face morphs again, this time displaying his utter dread. And Dudley is getting further away, his face disappearing behind the cliff as Harry begins to plummet down towards the blue depths below. The last thing he hears before hitting the water is Petunia screaming.


	2. Arthur Curry

**Chapter 2 - Arthur Curry**

 

Sometimes Arthur feels as though he's got the entire planet rested squarely on his shoulders. Most days thats near enough to the reality. He's the King of Atlantis, Atlantis encompasses all the worlds oceans, and the worlds oceans take up seventy percent of the planet's surface. It's a heavy responsibility, but it's his to bear, even if sometimes he needs to get away, to remember that he's not just King Orin, he's Arthur Curry, too.

That's just what the Amnesty Bay lighthouse is for. For years it's been his haven, the only place on earth where he can truly relax. In the house he grew up in, he's not the King of Atlantis or the superhero Aquaman - he's simply the son of the local lighthouse keeper.

Or at least that was true before the invasion of Metropolis. Darkseid's arrival changed everything _._ It may not be the first time Aquaman has appeared on the surface to help, but everything that had happened before was on a smaller scale. Ships lost at sea or creatures from the deep harassing coastal towns. Never anything like what happened in Metropolis. While his name might of been whispered in jokes or hushed whispers, he's never been as famous, or more realistically, infamous, as some of the other heroes were.

It's all different now. When fate banded them together to stop Darkseid, they became some of the most famous people alive, even he, the least loved of all of them. It's unclear how they found out that he lives in Amnesty Bay, but people have been swarming the lighthouse ever since, just hoping to get a glimpse of one of the so-called Justice League, not that it  _really_ exists.

He doesn't know why they even bother. It's been made very clear what most of them think of him. He's the superhuman joke, the punchline, the fool who talks to fish and thinks he lives in a mythical city. While his reputation amongst the surface isn't really important to him, being the butt of every superhero jokes is more than a little irksome.

He sighs when he hears a car door slam shut outside, the third one today. He hears heavy footsteps rapidly scraping on the gravel outside his front door, followed by hands slapping against his window with a loud thud. He starts ranting excitedly to whoever he's with.

Arthur decides its better if he stays in the kitchen until they leave. If they manage to catch even one glimpse of him, they'll hang around for hours. Since there's nothing else to really see, hopefully if they can't find any evidence of him they'll just assume he isn't home and leave.

He listens with his enhanced hearing as the boy who'd been looking through his front windows storms over towards the cliffside, his footsteps heavy. When he starts to talk, his tone is angry enough that Arthur slowly walks through his house to cautiously peer outside, just in case a fight breaks out.

He can see them, right on the edge of the cliff, a bulky blonde-haired boy yelling at another, who has his back turned to him. The other boy turns to face his assailant, and Arthur can't help the gasp that passes his lips when his eyes land on the boy.

_He looks just like me._

The resemblance is incredible, almost every detail being the same as Arthur when he was that age, the same golden blonde hair, same sort of build, even if this boy is perhaps a little on the thin side, same shape of the face. The only difference he can see is the colour of his eyes. With his enhanced vision he can see that the boy's eyes are a bright vibrant green, rather than the ocean blue of Arthur's. They look familiar, as though he's looked into those same eyes before, but he can't quite place who it had been.

Arthur's eyes widen when the bulkier boy shoves the smaller boy, who tumbles over the cliffside with a look of complete shock on his face.

He leaps into action, his front door exploding into splinters as Arthur smashes through it shoulder first. He hears a thin rake of a woman scream as he sprints past her with a superhuman burst of speed. He dives off the cliff after the boy, cringing when he sees the splash when the boy collides with the water.

_Please don't be dead._ Arthur hits the water in a graceful dive.

He sees the boy immediately in the water, and his first thought is that he actually  _is_ dead. He's in the water completely unmoving, until he starts blinking rapidly, looking down at his body in shock, most likely wondering how on earth he managed to survive.

Arthur can barely believe what he's seeing. The boy doesn't seem at all hurt, not a single mark on him, nor any evidence that he's feeling the slightest bit of pain. If that weren't miracle enough, even stranger is that he doesn't seem to be struggling for breath. His chest slowly heaves up and down with steady breaths, something that should be completely impossible for a regular human in water.

Arthur swims forward and puts a single arm around the boy's waist. He pushes the two of them through the water and towards the rocky shoreline, careful not to go too fast and give him any further shock.

 

* * *

 

"Are you alright?" the man asks Harry as he helps him to his feet on the shoreline, small waves lapping at his feet.

Harry's not sure about the best way to actually answer the question, simple enough though it may sound. His mind is still working overtime to process what it is that actually happened. He was pushed off the cliff by Dudley, that much he recognises, but how did he survive unscathed? That mystery is still eluding him. The best answer he can come up with is that his heightened emotional state brought on a bout of accidental magic.

And yet surviving the fall isn't the only thing he's trying to process. The bigger mystery is the man who had dived in after him, the man that looks outrageously like himself, albeit an older version of him. More than just the man's startling familiarity, his presence is stirring a strange feeling within him. He has the strangest feeling that he's met the man before, like he ought to know him for some reason that's escaping his notice. When the man had dived in after him their eyes had locked, and the image of him is seared into his brain, just behind his eyes like a sunspot.

With his mind already working overtime, there's even more confusion that threatens to bring on a killer of a headache. It's true that he's never been submerged in water in more than a simple bath, but people aren't supposed to be able to breathe underwater, but Harry felt as though it wasn't an issue whatsoever. Perhaps it's because he hadn't been under long enough? It certainly didn't feel like that. In fact, Harry felt better under the water than he's ever felt before.

"Hey," the man grips Harry's shoulder, turning his body to face him. "Are you alright?" he repeats.

Harry blinks. "Uhh, yeah. I think I'm okay."

Harry steps back automatically when the man's brows draw together to form a crease between his eyes. He looks straight past Harry and further up the shore, frown still firmly in place. When Harry follows his gaze, it's clear why. Vernon is thundering down the rocks towards them, Dudley and Petunia hurrying behind him.

"Boy!" Vernon roars when he's a little closer, still charging straight at him. Harry lets out a small sigh, knowing he's about get the berating of a lifetime. Before his uncle reaches him though, Harry's view is concealed by his rescuer moving to stand between them.

"Get out of my way, pretty boy," Vernon snarls. Harry leans to the side to see. He sees Dudley hide behind Vernon, peering around the large man to see as well.

"Dad… that's him!" Dudley whispers, staring at Harry's rescuer with wide eyes.

In the movie Harry had watched, Aquaman's character could only be seen from a distance, but there's no doubt Dudley is right. Maybe that explains why he seems so familiar?

"No, I don't think I will," the man calmly answers Vernon, no hint of fear in his voice at all.

Vernon scoffs and tries to reach past him for Harry, but his wrist is grabbed midway. "Are you his," the man cut's off mid-sentence to turn to Harry, with a firm grip still on Vernon's wrist. "Sorry, what's your name?" He asks kindly, not even straining to keep a hold of Vernon, who's trying to reef it back to freedom.

"Err… Harry."

The man smiles back at him. "Arthur."

Arthur turns back to face Vernon. "So are you Harry's guardian?" he asks. His voice is eerily calm, and absolutely at odds with the angry aura he seems to exude.

"What's it to you?" Vernon growls, still trying to pry his wrist away from Arthur's steely grip. Finally Arthur lets go, causing Vernon to fall back and land awkwardly on his behind.

"I'd want to know what kind of piss poor guardian tries to punish a boy who has just been pushed off a cliff by the other in his care." Arthur looks towards Dudley, who, now that he can't hide behind Vernon, instead scampers behind Petunia, who looks as white as a piece of paper.

"My son didn't push the boy; the clumsy idiot fell!" Vernon argues, bright red with both rage and embarrassment. He climbs slowly back to his feet. "Come on boy, we're going."

Arthur sticks his arm out in front of Harry to prevent him from moving. "Harry stays with me. If I decide it's safe for him, I may return him to you later."

Vernon waves a fat finger in front of Arthur's face. "Listen here! You can't just-" he cuts off as Arthur's nostrils flare, his calm expression disappearing in favour of a much angrier, much more threatening visage.

"Fine," Vernon says quickly. He turns around and scurries back up towards the lighthouse, waving Dudley and Petunia along with him. Harry can't blame him for fleeing. True Gryffindor though he might be, if Arthur levelled such a look at  _him,_ he'd probably run too.

"Seems like a great guy," Arthur comments sarcastically, his anger all but dissipated as soon as Vernon is gone. "I don't reckon he's your dad… there's no resemblance at all."

"Uncle," Harry replies smoothly, wondering what the hell he's going to do now. What if Arthur decides not to return him to the Dursley's? He can't explain it to Arthur, but if he doesn't go back, the blood protection charm will fail, at least according to what Dumbledore has told him. Merlin knows what that would mean for his future.

"Relax," Arthur says, clearly reading the panic on Harry's face. "I meant what I said, I'll take you back to them if you want to, but he was way too angry for me to let you go with him now. Besides, I want to make sure you're all right. That was a pretty hefty fall."

"Oh… Thanks," Harry says uncertainly.

"No problem. So are you  _sure_ you're alright? It's practically a miracle that you didn't die, let alone escape completely unscathed," Arthur says in an odd tone.

Harry lets out a nervous laugh. He can understand why Arthur is suspicious, but there's no possible way he can explain himself without breaking the international statue of secrecy. As it is, his display of magic, accidental though it might have been, could possibly have him in trouble with the American ministry. That's about the very last thing he needs right now.

"What can I say? I guess I'm a statistical anomaly," Harry says, thinking it'll probably be most believable if he leans into acting like it was pure luck. Arthur probably won't believe it, but there's not a whole lot he can do to dispute it.

As expected, Arthur looks unconvinced, but he doesn't press any further. He looks Harry up and down. "We should get you inside and into some dry clothes, there's a chill on the air today and I'd hate for you to get sick."

Harry nods and follows Arthur when he moves back up towards the house. They reach the top just in time to see the Dursley's car round the corner off Arthur's gravel driveway and back on the road towards Boston.

Harry raises an eyebrow at the pieces of front door strewn around the driveway. "Please tell me uncle Vernon didn't just do that," Harry says. It wouldn't surprise him too much if he did. Vernon has always been incredibly unpredictable when he's angry enough.

"No, that was me," Arthur says simply, stepping over what remains of the door, a simple strip of varnished wood hanging from a now very bent hinge.  _He did that?_ Just from looking at him it's clear that Arthur looks after himself, with fairly large biceps and broad shoulders, but still he must be a lot stronger than he looks if he's able to do this much damage.

"I'm so sorry," Harry says. "I'll pay you back, I promise."

Arthur laughs. "Don't be silly, I can fix it easily enough." At Harry's doubtful face, he keeps talking. "Honestly, don't worry about it. I'm not." He waves Harry onwards through the broken door and through the house. It's not very big, or very flashy, but it's well kept and organised. It has a very homely feel that Harry's not quite used to, with family photos lining the walls and atop tables and benches.

"Here, I should have some old clothes from when I was about your age that might fit you," Arthur says. He takes Harry into a small room with a window that overlooks the ocean. Harry would give anything to have a bedroom like this, to wake up to such a beautiful view every day. More than just the view though, he'd give anything to live in a home like this, obviously filled with so much love and happiness - what a true home is  _meant_ to be.

While Arthur searches through a cupboard for some dry clothes, Harry's gaze is drawn to a framed photo on the small bedside table - a photo that for a brief second he fully believes is of himself. It's uncanny how much Harry looks like Arthur. Aside from the eye colour, it could so easily be a photo of Harry. Of course it's not though. There's no photos of Harry that look like this. This photo is of a young boy and his loving father, just outside this very house, their faces so clearly full of love and joy.

"I love that photo," Arthur says, stepping up besides Harry. "Everything seemed simpler when my father was around." He stares for a moment longer before turning to Harry and holding out a shirt and jeans. "These should fit. There's a shower just down the hall."

Harry murmurs his thanks, suddenly sad and wistful from looking at the happy photo. They might look the same, but from the photos and just the feel of the house itself, Arthur's life has been completely different from the one Harry has led. He finds the bathroom easily enough and has a quick shower. When he steps out of the bathroom, he hears Arthur call him from down the hall.

"Oh good, they fit," Arthur says with a quick glance at Harry. "So, if you're hungry, I thought we could talk over lunch," Arthur says seriously, looking Harry dead in the eye.

_Probably about to ask me a thousand questions that I can't answer…_

"…Sure," Harry says, cautiously moving to sit opposite Arthur at the kitchen table.

"Sorry if my sandwiches aren't very good. I don't ever really have to cook for myself," Arthur shrugs apologetically. But Harry's already stuffing his face with the first of them. It's hard to care if he's being rude or not when all he's eaten for the past three days are snacks out of a vending machine. Arthur lets out a short laugh, and Harry feels the blood rush to his face when he sees Arthur raise an amused eyebrow across the table from him. "Don't stop on my account," Arthur laughs. "Plenty more where those came from."

"Sorry."

Arthur tilts his head to the side. "What are you apologising for? I made them to be eaten, and you're obviously hungry. Does your uncle not let you eat or something?"

_He's definitely fishing for answers…_ Harry doesn't want to lie, especially to someone who's being as nice as Arthur, but he  _needs_ to make Arthur think that things are as normal with the Dursley's as possible. No way will he believe that Harry is completely happy there, but if Harry reveals too much, he might try to prevent him from going back, and the consequences for that could be far-reaching indeed.

"No, I eat loads. Growing boy and all that," Harry bluffs. He catches Arthur once more looking him up and down, probably thinking about his thin stature. It's a poor lie, but again there's no real way for Arthur to prove that Harry is malnourished, other than his appearance. But he's not so starved that he looks too unhealthily thin - really, he could probably just pass it off as his natural build.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but your uncle seems like a real piece of work. Certainly doesn't treat  _you_ very well. Your aunt didn't really try to stop him, either," Arthur says after a few more moments.

_Understatement of the century._

Harry shrugs. No way can he lie about  _that_ , not after Vernon's performance on the shore. "No, they're not very nice people," he admits. "But it doesn't matter. I  _have_ to live with them."

"Can I ask why? There's always options, always somewhere you can go if they're… abusive."

Harry actually laughs. "Abusive? They might not be the nicest people around, but trust me, they'd never get away with laying a hand on me."

"So you at least have  _someone_ who looks out for you, then?" Arthur asks. "I don't mean to pry, but I'd hate to think I took you back to them knowing you'd be going back to a miserable life."

Harry shakes his head with vigour. "No, I'm not miserable at all. Sure the summer is the worst part of my year, but the rest of the time I'm at boarding school, and I have good friends there, and the teachers look after me, too."

Arthur looks anything but relieved. "Still, you should be going back to a happy home, not somewhere you're treated the way your uncle treated you earlier."

Harry lets out a steady breath.  _He's not going to let this go._ "I know that you're thinking that they abuse me, but it's not really like that," Harry says.

"Maybe not physically, but there are other ways… like emotional abuse," Arthur interrupts.

Harry shakes his head again. "It only counts as emotional abuse if I get  _emotional._ That would mean I care what they think about me, which I definitely don't. Honestly, today is the most time I've spent with them in a long time. We tend to just stay out of each other's way, usually." From the look on Arthur's face, Harry can tell he's not really helping his situation. "I know you're just trying to do the right thing here, but I swear, me going back to England with my aunt and uncle  _is_ the right thing."

Arthur still looks anything but convinced. It wouldn't even take much action on Arthur's part to cause them real problems. One call to the authorities about suspected child abuse would be all it would take to hold them up in the United States until they've investigated. Not to mention that Harry would be forced to lie and defend his uncle in order to get home and make sure the blood protection stays active, and lying for a man like Vernon is the  _last_ thing he wants to do.

"Well… if you say so," Arthur says slowly, still clearly unsure. Some of the tension leaves Harry's body, and he leans forward to take another sandwich.

"If you don't mind me asking… why do you live with them?"

Harry shrugs with one shoulder. "My parents died when I was a baby. I've been with them ever since."

"I'm sorry. What were their names?" Arthur asks, reaching for his glass of water.

"My dad's was James. My mother's was Lily."

Arthur says nothing in response, but his eyes widen and he leans forward to stare at Harry like he's seeing him for the first time. His eyes are gazing right into Harry's own, as if he's trying to see straight through him.

"…What's wrong?" Harry asks slowly. Still, Arthur stares, and Harry's not even sure if he heard. He looks as though he's far too deep into his own thoughts to be listening to anything said to him.

"Arthur?"

Arthur shakes his head once, and his eyes lose their focus. "Sorry, I remembered something important that I have to do," he says, getting out of his seat. "I'll have to take you back, now."

Harry immediately gets to his feet. "Of course. Thanks for lunch, and for, you know, saving my life. Uncle Vernon should have calmed down by now."

"I'm sorry to have to take you back so soon. Just… something has come up," Arthur says apologetically. His expression looks sad, and Harry can honestly believe that he doesn't want to have to take him back.

"Don't apologise, it's completely fine. I'm glad I met you, Arthur."

"I - I'm glad I met you too."

 

* * *

 

Arthur cuts through the ocean water like a bullet cuts through the air. Normal humans might move slower in the water, but it offers Arthur no resistance, and even after so many years of swimming in the open ocean, Arthur relishes in the feeling of it practically pushing him along to where he wants to go.

He's headed straight to the Science Centre in Poseidonis, the major seat of all scientific research in Atlantis. At it's entrance is a glowing blue barrier, the same sort of magical barrier that guards the entrance to all the buildings in Atlantis, to protect their interiors from the outside pressure and cold, as well as the water itself. Arthur swims straight through it, landing gracefully on his feet on the other side.

He's been here many times, and he finds the small laboratory he's looking for after a couple of minutes walk through the hall. In it he finds the exact man he's looking for.

"My King," Vulko says in reverent surprise, lifting his left arm across his breast in Atlantean salute. "What brings you here? I had thought you would be on the surface a few more days."

Vulko is the perfect man for what Arthur needs right now. He's the chief scientific advisor to the King, and one of only a handful of people that Arthur would trust with his life. He's an old man, withe white hair and a short white beard, but one of the brightest minds Atlantis has ever seen, not to mention one of the most wise.

"Vulko," Arthur greets, repeating the same salute back to him. "I had intended to stay in Amnesty Bay a little longer, but something's happened and I need…" he trails off. He lifts his hand to show Vulko the glass of water that Harry had drunk from at lunch. It's encased in a magical barrier, the same sort as the ones which serve as the entrances of Atlantean buildings.

"I need you to test the DNA on that," Arthur eventually says. Vulko takes the glass and removes the barrier with a wave of his hand.

"May I ask whose it is?"

Arthur hesitates slightly, but manages to stammer out an answer. Vulko is watching him with a strange look, probably because he's never seen Arthur stammer before. He's normally the very picture of confidence, but he's also never been in a situation quite like this, either. "I think it might be my-" he cuts off when someone enters the room behind him.

Arthur turns to see Mera stalking towards him, embracing him tenderly when she reaches his side. "Arthur," she says gently. "The guards told me of your return. What brings you back so soon?"

"I needed to have some DNA tested," Arthur says, turning to give Vulko a serious nod. The elderly scientist walks away with a slight bow, moving towards the back of his lab to begin the test.

"Oh? Whose is it?"

Arthur lets out a nervous breath. "There was a boy today. He fell from the cliff outside the lighthouse."

"Neptune's beard," Mera breathes. "Is he alright?"

Arthur nods. "Completely unharmed."

"Really? Quite remarkable for a surface human, I admit, but perhaps not enough to warrant a DNA test. Was there something else about him?"

Arthur looks deep into his wife's eyes, ocean blue like his own. "He… He looks just like me when I was that age. Almost exactly. He fell from a height like that and was unharmed, and on top of that, he didn't seem to struggle for breath in the water."

Mera takes a step back and averts her eyes. "You think he might be yours?" she asks quietly.

Arthur lets out a sigh. "I do. Years ago, when I was just barely a man, still a teen, really, I spent the night with a woman named Lily. I never saw her again but… he has her eyes. Her eyes in my face."

Mera still won't meet his eyes, and there's a deep crease between her eyes.  _I can't lose her over this… but I can't lie to her, either._ He doesn't  _want_  to lie to her, either. Mera keep him grounded. Without her, he would suffer, and Atlantis would suffer just as much.

"Mera?" he asks softly.

At his prompt, she finally looks back at him, her eyes large and focused. She takes a step closer and reaches out to rest a hand gently on his waist. " _If_ he is yours, you must go to him. He would belong here, with his family. If he is yours, Arthur, then he is the rightful Prince and heir."

Arthur pulls her close and wraps his arms around her back. "I know this isn't what we planned, and it must be difficult for you, but he really is a remarkable boy. He seems kind, and bright, and just  _good."_

"It sounds like you  _want_ it to be true," Mera says, more curious than hostile.

Arthur hesitates for a moment. "The circumstances aren't what we would have wanted, I know, but after meeting him… yes, I do hope it's true. I could just feel this  _connection_ with him, so instantly. It almost killed me sending him back to his uncle, and I barely know him! Isn't it strange that I feel so protective over a child I barely know?"

Mera slowly shakes her head once. "No, I don't think it's strange, but only because I also think you don't  _really_ need a DNA test to know the truth."

And that's true. Harry's mother was named Lily, and he'd spent the night with a young woman named Lily close to fifteen years ago. Harry looks tremendously like himself, and Arthur had felt a connection with him, straight away. He knows deep down that it is the truth. Harry is his son.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Mera," Arthur says. As always, she is perfect. He would've understood if Mera was upset. It can't be easy to hear that he has a child with another woman, especially when they want to start a family of their own, but Mera has always been understanding, and she has always stood by him.

"The day shall never come when you have to find out," she answers softly, lifting a hand to his face and planting a brief kiss on his lips.

"I've done as you asked," Vulko says, walking back over.

"He's mine, isn't he?"

Vulko nods.

"He is."


	3. Revelations

**Chapter 3 - Revelations**

 

Little Whinging is unnerving. It's like a hall of mirrors from an amusement park, where all the houses look the same, all two storey abodes with perfectly manicured lawns and small but well-maintained gardens. While the residents probably think its a fine neighbourhood to live, to Arthur it feels strange, like all the life has been sucked out of the world.

It's hard to believe this is where his son has grown up. A Prince of Atlantis, the heir no less, stuck growing up in a world that might as well be black and white, so very far from the ocean. At least in Amnesty Bay Arthur hadn't been  _completely_ isolated from who he is. Harry should have grown up in Poseidonis as the next King, but instead he's lived in one of the most dull places Arthur has ever been, and for a man who has traveled more than most, that's saying quite a lot.

He doesn't know if the pit in his stomach is from nerves, or excitement. Probably both if he's really honest. It's easy to think that he will just walk in and tell Harry the truth, and they will both rejoice and head back to a happily ever after back in Atlantis, but real life is rarely so simple, if ever. In Amnesty Bay Harry had been so adamant that he can't leave his aunt and uncle, and there's no guarantee that finding out that he has a living father is going to change Harry's mind. But fatherly instincts had kicked in even before Arthur knew one hundred percent that Harry was his, and if he's sure of anything, its that Harry cannot stay with people who would treat him so terribly.

Number Four Privet Drive is as lifeless as all the houses that surround it, and Arthur has to wonder just how his son has managed to deal with the despair of having to return every summer from his boarding school to such a forsaken place. After a moment's hesitation, he knocks on the door. He hears the light footsteps approach before it swings open, revealing a very surprised looking Harry.

"Arthur?" he whispers, eyes wide and nervous. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur shuffles his feet awkwardly. Even after a full day of knowing that Harry is his son, he really doesn't know what to say to him. How does one tell a boy of fourteen that his whole life has been a lie?

"It's kind of a long story. Can I come in?"

Harry frowns suspiciously before peering out the door behind Arthur, seemingly to check if anybody else is with him before stepping backwards and allowing him inside. "Up the stairs, quickly!" he whispers urgently, steering him towards the stairs with a gentle push. Arthur lets himself be shepherded, understanding Harry's reasons for doing so. After their last encounter, Vernon isn't likely to be thrilled to have Arthur in his home.

"Who is it, boy?" Vernon asks from outside the hall, and Arthur lets out a sigh as he hears the man's heavy footsteps get closer and closer towards them. When the elephant of a man steps into view, Arthur watches his bloated face turn the same shade of angry blotched red he had seen on the beach in Amnesty Bay.

"You told  _him_ where we  _live_?" Vernon asks through ground teeth, glaring at his nephew. He takes a step closer to Harry, who simply runs a hand down his face in irritation. Despite how Vernon towers over him, Harry doesn't look the least bit scared. Even so, Arthur puts himself between them, blocking Harry entirely from his uncle's view.

"Actually no, I discovered your address for myself, with the help of some very resourceful friends," Arthur says calmly, fighting the urge to throw the man through his own roof. He'd want to be careful calling Harry  _'boy,'_ any more, or Arthur might just stop fighting said urge.

"Perhaps we should go in and sit down, I have an important matter to discuss with you," Arthur suggests calmly. Without waiting for permission, he stalks past the dumbfounded Vernon and into the living room, sitting down on the plush couch inside. Petunia walks into the room from the kitchen and drops her steaming mug of coffee all over the carpet when she seem him sitting there, her eyes widening in horror.

"What are  _you_ doing here?" she asks in a harsh whisper.

Arthur gestures to the couch opposite him. "I have something important to discuss. Please, sit down."

"You can't just waltz into our home like you own the place and just make yourself comfortable!" Vernon sputters, finally following Arthur into the room.

Arthur turns an expressionless glance towards him. "Well, you didn't seem as though you were about to invite me inside, and like I said, I have important business to discuss. I think we should talk about it like rational adults." He gestures once more to the couch. Harry makes a move to step inside and sit down, but Vernon sticks out an arm to block him.

"No, boy," he growls. "You go upstairs. I'll deal with you later."

Harry glowers, but nonetheless begins to slowly move back towards the stairs, stopping to listen in when Vernon continues speaking to Arthur. "I don't know what that ungrateful little snot told you the other day, but I will not have you barge in here and tell us what to do." With every word Vernon's voice grows louder and louder, until he's practically shouting in Arthur's face.

Arthur is usually able to keep his calm. He's had years of experience with stressful situations, but the way the man is speaking to his son has Arthur's blood boiling hot. "Harry, stay right there," Arthur says firmly, speaking directly to his son while locking eyes with Vernon. "You will stop referring to Harry as 'boy.' He has a name, use it. You will also not be 'dealing' with him later. As for him telling me anything about you - he didn't. He didn't  _need_ to. I can see for myself the way you treat him."

"Arthur, it's fine," Harry tries to interrupt.

Still Arthur doesn't break eye contact with Vernon. "No, it is not fine."

Vernon's nostrils flare, and he's glaring at Arthur so hard his eyes appear little more than thin slits on his face. He's become so red that it barely appears he has skin at all, more like bloody red flesh that lies underneath. "How I speak to and punish my own nephew is no concern of yours, pretty boy!" he eventually snarls. "I wasn't going to confront you next to the ocean the other day, but you're a fish out of water here, and on my own property no less."

Vernon takes several slow steps towards Arthur as he continues speaking. "Now, you are going to get off my property. I give the orders around here." The man has a cruel smile etched onto his face, and Arthur gets the impression that Vernon genuinely thinks that he's scaring him, as if he  _ever_ could.

Arthur rises slowly to his feet, threateningly, even. Even if he wasn't who he is, he wouldn't let such a bully of a man push him around, especially considering the way he's speaking about his son. "The way you treat Harry is of  _every_ concern to me," Arthur says quietly enough so that just the other man can hear.

Vernon reaches out to grip Arthur by the shoulders and tries to wrench him away from where he stands. Arthur plants his feet firmly into the ground, and despite his best efforts, Vernon can't budge him so far as even an inch. The more effort he puts into trying, the more the strain appears on his face, until thick veins begin to protrude from his forehead, and Arthur can sense what the man is about to do before he even makes the move.

"What you're about to do is very stupid."

Despite Arthur's warning, Vernon's fat fist comes flying through the air, aimed directly for Arthur's face.

"Don't!" Harry calls out desperately.

Vernon might as well be moving in slow motion. Arthur lifts his arm and stops the first in its tracks. He grabs Vernon with both hands by the collar, and, careful not to use too much strength, hoists him to the left and lets go. Vernon's body lifts off the ground and sails helplessly through the air, smashing straight through the front window. He rolls powerlessly across the lawn like a ragdoll.

His anger all but dissipated, all that is left is guilt. It's not guilt at having thrown Vernon through to window as much as that it happened in front of Harry. What kind of father is he going to be if he's so quick to anger? He slowly turns his head towards Harry, almost too afraid to see his reaction. If he were Harry, he'd most definitely be frightened of him now.

_Great first impression, Arthur._

But Harry certainly doesn't look frightened. He's watching out the window to where Petunia has run out to help her husband get back to his feet, which he fortunately does. More than anything else, Harry looks confused, like he's thinking more about  _how_ Arthur did it, rather than the fact that he did. He turns his gaze to Arthur himself, his eyes asking a silent question. Arthur rubs the back of his neck awkwardly before turning back to Vernon out the broken window.

Even with the feeling of guilt, the last thing he wants to do right now is apologise to the man who treats his son so abhorrently. "Are you ready to behave like a rational human being now?"

Vernon says nothing, simply glares back. Arthur tolls his eyes and looks away. Thankfully, Vernon's pride appears to be his biggest injury, and he's escorted back inside by Petunia. Arthur sits back down, but can't miss Harry still staring at him with a bewildered expression.

"How did you do that?" Harry asks with a slight frown. It's still not an angry or disappointed frown, he still appears as though he just wants to know how Arthur managed to throw a man twice his weight.

Arthur shrugs. "I'm stronger than I look."

Harry's frown deepens.

"Aquaman!" Dudley calls out as he comes tearing into the room. Apparently he hadn't even noticed that Arthur was there, not even with the drama that's just happened. Arthur catches Harry's exasperated eye roll at his cousins obliviousness.

"Get away from him Dudley!" Petunia screeches from just inside the front door.

"Pet, call the police," Vernon sternly orders his wife.

"Don't!" Harry cries out. "Arthur only wants to  _talk._ You're the one that threatened him! It was self defence!"

"Be silent boy!" Vernon says sharply. "Pet, quickly, call the police."

"Oh I don't think that will be necessary," a new voice sounds from the doorway.

Arthur looks to see a tall elderly man with long white hair and an equally long white beard standing in the entrance to the house. Despite the tense situation he wears a kindly smile on his face, and his blue eyes have a strange sort of twinkle, visible even behind his crescent glasses. He's dressed in a long purple robe that covers his entire body.

_Harry's grandfather maybe?_

"Harry my boy, are you alright?" the man asks, stepping around the Dursleys as if they weren't there at all.

"I'm fine, Professor. Why are you here?"

"I got a frantic floo call from my dear friend Arabella saying there was some sort of commotion. Naturally, I came to make sure everything was alright," the man answers, gesturing across the road. When Arthur looks over, he sees an elderly woman peering out the window behind her curtains.

"You know Mrs Figg?" Harry asks, his brows pulling together when he looks across the road.

"Oh yes, for many years," the old man explains. "She's been making sure you've been looked after when you're not at school."

Arthur can't help it. He scoffs, loudly. Finally the old man looks up at him for the first time since entering the house. Arthur locks eyes with him. "Great job she did, too," he says sarcastically.

The man gazes into him for several long moments. He scans him up and down with old, soulful eyes. "You must be Arthur," he eventually says. "Lily always said he took after you, even as a baby. My name is Albus Dumbledore, I'm the headmaster at Harry's school."

Arthur's eyes widen. "You know? How?"

"Lily and her husband James were good friends of mine. The question is, how do  _you_ know? From what I was led to understand, Lily never got the chance to tell you."

Arthur's about to answer when Harry steps forward, looking between them accusingly. "What are you two talking about? How do you know Arthur?" He asks Dumbledore before turning back to Arthur. "And how do you know my mum? Why didn't you tell me that you did when we met?"

And there it is. The reason Arthur has come, and he has no idea how to respond to that question. He's pictured the scenario a thousand times over the past day, but he could never have imagined that Harry would wind up asking him directly.

"I think perhaps you'd better listen to Arthur, Harry. He has something quite important to tell you," Dumbledore tells him calmly before whipping out a thin stick and magically summoning the phone that Petunia had reached for from behind him. The woman makes a loud squeak and scrambles back to her family's side.

_He has magic? But he's a surfacer…_ Nobody in Atlantis has ever heard about surfacer's retaining their magic after Atlantis sunk beneath the waves thousands of years ago, but he recognises magic when he sees it.

Normally discovering the answer to that question would be at the top of Arthur's to do list, but with Harry watching him with wide green eyes, he's the more pressing issue right now.

"Well?" Harry asks expectantly.

"I… I'm not entirely sure how to say it," Arthur tries weakly.

"Perhaps a direct approach is best," Dumbledore says.

Arthur has to agree. There's no easy way to do it. He just has to rip off the band-aid.

"Harry," he says slowly. "I'm your father."


	4. The Son of Aquaman

**Chapter 4 - The Son of Aquaman**

 

"I'm your father," Arthur had said.

It's been a strange sort of night. Well not at the beginning, it had begun like every other boring evening in Privet Drive, but then Arthur, a person he hadn't expected to see ever again, had shown up at the front door.

He shouldn't really be so surprised. Arthur had  _known_ something was amiss with his relationship with the Dursley's, and Harry had known he'd known it. Why should he expect a man as decent as Arthur to simply let things lie? After all, he'd seen Vernon at his very worst, about to punish Harry for getting pushed off a cliff… What sort of person would let him stay in a house like that?

Still, he'd hoped he might have convinced Arthur that he has to live with the Dursley's, even if he could never give him a proper reason. It's not like he can tell the man he can't leave because at least there he's protected by an ancient blood protection spell. Not only would Arthur think he's abused, he'd probably recommend Harry go into a mental institution.

But Arthur had shown up, and before he'd revealed to  _true_ reason he'd come, Harry just hoped it wasn't to bring legal action against the Dursley's for child abuse. Now though, it would probably be simpler if that  _were_ the reason.

"You're… what?" Harry says dumbfounded. Arthur doesn't answer with words, just keeps a steady, but somehow nervous gaze on him. Harry looks to Dumbledore to refute him, but instead the elderly headmaster simply nods slowly.

"But… my father was James Potter?"

Arthur lets out a sigh. "I know it's hard to believe, but I swear it's the truth."

Harry closes his eyes and shakes his head. "No. That  _can't_ be right. That's crazy." He runs a hand through the golden hair on his head.

"Is it though?" Arthur asks. "Can you not see the resemblance between us?"

Harry opens his eyes and looks back at Arthur, who's still gazing straight into his eyes. Harry opens his mouth and closes it several times, trying to think of anything to refute it, but unable to come up with anything convincing. All the evidence points to it being the truth. He looks nothing like James Potter, but tremendously like Arthur. Sirius had wanted to tell Harry something at the end of term, and Harry would now bet his entire vault that this is it. He'd never felt much of a connection to James, but had felt an  _immediate_ one with Arthur, and can even feel it right now.

"But… how? Why didn't you tell me the other day?" Harry's voice cracks, and tears begin to blur his vision. "No, why didn't you tell me  _before_ that? Why didn't you ever come for me?" He can feel the hot tears slowly begin to slide down his cheeks.

Arthur's face contorts as if he's just stubbed his toe, and Harry knows that his words have cut him, deep. He can't bring himself to care. How could he have had a living father for all these years and never even know it? It might be selfish to think so, but it was bad enough having a father who had died, but having a father who was alive and he didn't even know it? That's worse.

"I would have, I swear it, but I never even knew you  _existed_ ," Arthur explains in a quiet voice, sounding as much like he's about to cry as Harry. He lifts his hand as if to reach out for him, but clearly thinks better of it and pulls it back. "You have to understand that I only knew your mother for a few days while I was visiting Britain. After I left I never saw her again."

Harry shakes his head again. "Then why not tell me the other day? You must have put it together when I told you her name." Harry tries to keep his composure, but his voice comes out in little more than a sob.

"I didn't know for  _certain._ All I knew was that there was this remarkable kid in front of me, a kid who looks just like me at that age. After you told me Lily's name, I started to put the pieces together. After that I had your DNA tested from your water glass. You  _are_ my son, Harry. There's no doubt. Once I knew I had to find your address, and I came straight here."

Harry wipes at his eyes and nods slowly, trying in vain to process what he's being told. His head is swimming, and he can barely form a coherent thought.

The oncoming silence is quickly broken by Dudley. "No, its not true!" he screams. "That  _freak_ is not Aquaman's son! Just look at him, he's pathetic!"

Harry looks up just in time to see Dumbledore flick his wand in a wordless silencing charm. Dudley is still moving his mouth up and down, but not a single sound manages it's way past his lips. Harry's not worried about Dudley. All Dumbledore has done is remind Harry that he's there, and he knew. He  _knew._ Shock and sadness are replaced with a burning anger.

"You knew! You knew James Potter isn't my dad! How could you not tell me that? I trusted you!"

Dumbledore sighs and closes his eyes slowly. He looks completely resigned, as if he'd known this day would come eventually, but wasn't quite ready for it to be now. He looks every bit his age, something Harry has never been able to say about him before.

"I wanted to, Harry, truly. I had no idea how to find him. All I knew was his first name, that he is American, and that you apparently look just like him. I couldn't bring myself to tell you that James Potter isn't your father only to tell you that I have no idea who actually  _is._ It is so important that you stay with your aunt Harry, you  _know_ why, and I feared that if you knew Arthur was out there you would go searching for him."

The last thing Harry cares about right now is the blood protection. The fact that Dumbledore mentions them only serves to make him angrier. "Of course I would have!" Harry argues loudly. You had no  _right_ to keep this from me! You made me believe that James Potter was my father. You even gave me his cloak! Why?" Harry is still yelling, definitely louder and more angry than he's ever been in his life.

"James would have wanted you to have it," Dumbledore says calmly. "You may not be his son by  _blood_ , but he loved you as his son nonetheless."

All this does is prompt Harry to remember just how it was that James had died. "He gave his life for me and I wasn't even his," he says sadly. There's a part of him that's always felt guilty about how they sacrificed their lives for him. It's so much worse, now.

"There is much more to family than just blood. James loved you as his son from the moment you were born, and he knew you weren't his biologically. How he spent his final moments is proof of that," Dumbledore adds.

It's too much to take in. The more he hears, the heavier his head feels, and by now it feels so heavy that his neck can barely hold it upright. As if the night couldn't get any stranger, Dumbledore is suddenly crying out in pain, and by the time Harry looks to him, he's propping himself up against the wall for stability.

"Do not try to read my mind again," he hears Arthur say firmly. Harry's eyes widen.

"Harry, come here, quickly," Dumbledore orders. Harry sees the wand drop into his hand, but doesn't move to his side like the man wants. Despite how serious he can see the headmaster is, his trust in him has been broken, and won't be easily mended.

"What just happened?" Harry asks. Instead of answering, Dumbledore darts in front of him with surprising speed for a man of his advanced age and holds Harry behind him in a tight grip.

"My apologies, Arthur, I did not realise you would be able to sense my presence," Dumbledore says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "That said, if you were an ordinary muggle, you would not have been able, and you would most assuredly not have been able to repel me from your mind. So, if you are not an ordinary person, who exactly are you?" he continues, wand still tight in his grip, but not yet aimed at Arthur.

"I have no idea what a muggle is, but you are correct, like yourself I am not ordinary." From the way Arthur continues, Harry guesses that Dumbledore must look surprised. "I saw your magic before. Do not lie, I recognise magic when I see it," Arthur says, completely unfazed by Dumbledore's defensive stance.

"Who are you?" Dumbledore repeats the question. Arthur remains silent as he meets Dumbledore's eyes.

"You are here for Harry. You are his father, but that does not mean you mean him no ill will. And now you appear to have gifts that no regular person would have," Dumbledore says. "Who are you, truly?"

"I don't wish Harry any harm. He's my  _son."_

That statement alone is enough to make Harry's chest tighten in a strange sort of way, but not uncomfortably. He tries to move around Dumbledore so he can see better, but the old professor's grip is like iron.

"Who. Are. You?" Dumbledore repeats slower, finally raising his wand a little in Arthur's direction.

"You want to know who I am? Truly?" Arthur asks, stretching out his right arm perpendicular to his body. Harry wrenches free of Dumbledore's vice grip just in time to see water begin flowing from his hand, travelling down towards the ground and materialising into a large golden trident.

"My name is Orin Atlan-son," he begins. As he speaks, water, as if rising from beneath the floor, makes its way slowly up his legs. Where the water moves, the clothes he's wearing seem to transfigure completely. By the time it's the entire way up his body, Arthur, or Orin, is wearing green bottoms and gloves, and a bright golden scaled shirt. He stands defiant, regal, even.

"I am the King of Atlantis."

It's all real. Everything Harry had seen on the TV in Boston was no movie, it was a genuine news story. Standing in front of Harry is Aquaman, one of the heroes who had saved the world from Darkseid.

"I don't believe it," Harry breathes. "You're actually him. Actually Aquaman."

Arthur proud and regal demeanour breaks completely when he looks at Harry with a wide grin. "You didn't realise? Your cousin certainly knew. Wasn't it why you came to Amnesty Bay in the first place?"

Harry feels the blood rush up to his cheeks and he looks down to the ground, rubbing his arm sheepishly. "I thought it was a movie," he says quietly. He wouldn't have even thought it loud enough for anyone to actually hear, least of all Arthur from across the room, but clearly he does.

Arthur lets out a booming laugh. "You thought I was just some actor in a movie?"

"Well look at it from my point of view!" Harry argues, his cheeks still burning a bright pink. "I was at school during the invasion, and I hadn't seen or even heard anything about it until I saw it on TV a few days before we met! Who watches an alien invasion on TV and assumes it actually happened?"

"I suppose you do have a point," Arthur concedes, still chuckling. "But it  _is_ funny." Harry can;t help but smile slightly himself, even if he is incredibly embarrassed.

"So you were there during the invasion of Metropolis?" You fought against the extra-terrestrials?" Dumbledore asks with wide, fascinated eyes. Harry can't help but notice that his wand has been completely lowered. He's looking at Arthur with something akin to awe, a look Harry would never expect to see on Dumbledore's face.

Arthur nods once. "I fought Darkseid alongside several others, yes."

"Then i, along with the rest of the world, owe you my thanks, King Orin. It is a true honour to meet you." Dumbledore bows his head low. It's almost a gesture of submission, the kind which Harry doesn't think Dumbledore has ever shown anyone. After all, the headmaster even treats the minister for magic like an equal, if not an inferior.

"It's not needed, but thank-you," Arthur says.

"I have suspected for a long time that Atlantis still lives. I can't say that it helps my ego to have my theory confirmed."

"Professor, you must see that he isn't any threat to me. He saved the world, and he saved my life only two days ago. Dudley knocked me off a cliff and Arthur jumped in to save me. I would have drowned if it weren't for him," Harry tells Dumbledore.

"Actually," Arthur adds conversationally, "you didn't need saving. You're my son, which means you are Atlantean, with royal blood no less. You  _can't_ drown. Haven't you ever noticed that you don't run out of breath underwater?"

Harry shrugs. "I dunno, besides baths when I was little and showers since, it's the only time I've ever really been in the water. It's definitely the only time I've been in the ocean."

Arthur shakes his head slightly before glaring towards the entrance of the house, where the Dursley's remain standing, petrified looks on both their faces. If Harry didn't know better, he'd say they'd been caught in the reflected gaze of a basilisk. They're white as sheets, and Vernon's anger has all but been replaced entirely by fear. Harry  _almost_ feels sorry for them. Even the small amounts of magic that Dumbledore has performed, along with whatever Arthur had done to don his armor is likely enough to scare them for keeps.

"You didn't even teach him how to  _swim?_ " Arthur asks angrily. Vernon says nothing - doesn't even seem capable of saying anything. He simply pales even more and hunches his shoulders, looking much smaller than he normally does. Petunia is squeezed as closely as she can be to her husband's side, and Dudley's mouth is still moving like he's yet to realise no sounds is coming out.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Dumbledore chirps happily, whipping his wand back out. "I forgot completely. Forgive me, I'm an old man." With a swish of his wand Dudley can be heard again.

"It's not true! It's not true!" he repeats. After several times he stops, seemingly understanding that the charm has been removed. He turns to face his father with a desperate look on his face. "Dad, it can't be true. Harry  _can't_ be Aquaman's son!" Vernon and Petunia watch their son with horror, as if his words might bring down God's wrath upon them right then and there.

"Be quiet Dudley!" Vernon hisses.

"He's not! He's not! He's not!" Dudley continues desperately before Vernon claps a hand over his mouth.

Harry shakes his head with amusement before turning back to Arthur. "So, what now?"

"Well, the whole reason I came here was so that I could bring you home with me," Arthur answers.

"Hold on a moment," Dumbledore interrupts, putting on a serious air. "Harry cannot leave. There are things you do not know. Outside of this house, Harry is in grave danger." Arthur frowns deeply, his demeanour urging Dumbledore to keep talking.

"This is quite a long story, so perhaps we should sit back down," Dumbledore suggests with a deep sigh. He looks deeply sad, not that Harry can blame him. The story of Voldemort is hardly a pleasant one.

 

* * *

 

"So you must understand King Orin, as long as the blood protection spell remains in place, Voldemort, nor his followers, can harm him," Dumbledore says to finish the story.

After a brief moment of silence, Arthur slowly shakes his head. "I must disagree that this house is the safest place for Harry." When Dumbledore moves to speak again, Arthur cuts him off. "Believe me, I am not underestimating this Dark Wizard. In my experience it is safer to assume any enemy is a dangerous one, but there is more to consider here than just a blood protection spell."

"It may have skipped your notice, but Harry's aunt and uncle have been particularly poor guardians." Arthur cuts Harry off too, before he even gets a chance to speak. "Don't say it's fine, Harry. It is most assuredly  _not_ fine."

Arthur lifts his gaze to the Dursleys once more, who are now standing behind the lounge opposite them, behind Dumbledore. "I have only seen them interact with Harry a few times, but every time it has been downright cruel and hostile. Only a few days ago I saw you, his uncle, try to punish him for being pushed off a cliff. If Harry did not have Atlantean heritage, he would likely be dead, and you would see him punished for it," Arthur continues, sounding angrier with every word spoken. The large man shrinks back, defeated.

Arthur looks back towards Dumbledore. "You may not think I have the right, seeing as I haven't been a part of Harry's life, but I will  _not_ allow my son to stay with people who would treat him in such a way."

Dumbledore strokes his beard as he ponders what Arthur is saying. "You're right of course. I admit I did not know that Harry was so mistreated, but the wards still make this place safe from Voldemort and his followers. Their importance  _cannot_ be understated."

Arthur scoffs in disbelief. "Atlantis has the strongest wards in the world. Atlantean Magisters have been adding to our cities' protection for  _thousands_ of years. There's no safer place on the planet than Poseidonis, our capital. Not to mention the fact that the people on the surface doubt our very existence, and even if they didn't, Poseidonis is on the bottom of the ocean cloaked by countless enchantments. Harry would be better protected there than anywhere you could find on the surface."

"Perhaps that is true, but-" Dumbledore begins.

Harry speaks over the top of him. Dumbledore lost the right to make decisions for Harry when he lied to him about having a living father, a living father whose there to take him  _home._ Really  _home._ "I want to go with you," Harry tells Arthur. The man's entire face lights up. No doubt he's been worried that Harry wouldn't actually  _want_ to go with him.

"You're certain, Harry? Once you leave this house the blood protection falls," Dumbledore says slowly, looking very uncertain.

Harry nods. "I know you mean well, but it's my life and my decision… I want to go with Arthur."

Dumbledore sighs and lets his chin drop to his chest in defeat. "Very well, if it is what you want. But can I make a request of you, King Orin?"

Arthur nods slowly, but to Harry it seems very noncommittal. It's strange to see. In every situation he's seen Dumbledore in, he's always seemed in control of the situation. Here though, Arthur clearly holds all the cards. He seems to simply  _exude_ authority, probably comes from being a King.

"I've been making sure that Harry is protected for a long time. As much as you seem to have his best interests at heart, I don't know you, and I care very much about his wellbeing. I want to make sure he is safe. Therefore I would ask that a representative from our world accompany him to Atlantis. At least for now."

"It can be arranged," Arthur says, still noncommittal. "Whoever this representative would be, they wouldn't be able to accompany Harry everywhere in Atlantis. The interior of our buildings are free from the water and pressure, and so safe for those from the surface, but outside of those buildings they could never survive. The pressure would kill them instantly."

Harry clicks his tongue. "I'll be  _fine_ Professor. I trust Arthur, I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm glad that you do, but I would feel much better if someone was with you."

Harry's about to tell Dumbledore that what's going to make  _him_  feel better isn't really a priority for Harry right now, but instead a different idea jumps into his head. There is an option for a representative from the surface that makes too much sense.

"What about Sirius? He wouldn't have to hide in Atlantis, and no responsibilities he has on the surface."

Dumbledore smiles. "An inspired idea my boy!" he exclaims. "I shall have to find him of course, he has yet to send word of where he has settled. Perhaps if the two of you were to meet me in a few days time?"

Arthur nods once before rising from his seat. "Meet us at Portland Bill Lighthouse in two days' time, at Midday."

"Very well. It was truly an honour to meet you, King Orin. One day you shall have to tell me more about yourself. I am most interested in the existence of Atlantis, and especially of the magic that we must have lost when it sunk," Dumbledore says, sounding every iota like the scholar that his title suggests.

Arthur reaches out to shake Dumbledore's hand. "Then I'll bring my wife Mera along to meet you then. She is a very talented sorceress."

"It would be a pleasure," Dumbledore says before turning to the Dursley's. "I take my leave Mr and Mrs Dursley. Thank-you for allowing us use of your home, although a spot of tea wouldn't have gone amiss." He waves his wand once more through the air, and the smashed window begins to piece itself back together. "And perhaps in future you could avoid falling through windows," he adds conversationally.

"Well Harry, I shall see you and your father in two days' time," Dumbledore says before finally stepping out the front door.

"He's an… interesting guy," Arthur points out as Harry watches Dumbledore cross the road back to Mrs Figgs'.

Harry can only agree, even if he's still absolutely still sore with the man for keeping such a huge secret from him. Deep down he can sort of see the wisdom in it. Dumbledore is right about one thing. It would hurt even more knowing that he had a father somewhere out in the world but not knowing who he was or how to find him.

Father.  _I have a_ _ **living**_ _father. What do I call him? Do we have anything in common._ Emotions roil in his stomach.

"Relax, Harry. This is new for me, too," Arthur says, sensing Harry's discomfort. "We'll learn about each other, don't worry."

Harry nods nervously.

"Why don't you go get your things, I'll wait outside," Arthur continues.

Harry takes off towards the stairs, glad he didn't completely unpack from the year at Hogwarts. It takes him only a few minutes to pack up the things he had taken out, and soon he's dragging his suitcase back downstairs.

Harry almost has to pinch himself to be convinced that the entire night hasn't been some elaborate dream. It just seems almost inconceivable that just a few hours ago he was having a typically boring night in Privet Drive, and nows he's going to live with his lost long father in a mythical city on the bottom of the ocean.

The Dursleys are standing together in the entranceway, now, keeping an eye on Arthur who waits on the front porch waiting patiently. Dudley is sobbing into his mother's shoulder, who's murmuring promises of presents and food to try and soothe him. Harry smiles. There's not enough presents or food in the world to fix this. Aquaman is one of Dudley's heroes, and yet Harry is the one that turned out to be his son.

"I guess this is see you later, then," Vernon mumbles as Harry stops in front of them. Harry looks at them for a moment, and then out the door towards Arthur, who gives him a small encouraging smile. It's more than he's ever gotten from the Dursley's. Such a small thing, but it tells Harry that he's wanted, and that's not something he's ever been with the Dursley's.

"No, it's not," Harry says. "I don't think you'll ever be seeing me again." He turns his back to them and takes on step out the door and into his new life.


	5. The Prince

**Chapter 5 – The Prince**

 

It's hard to believe that this is likely the last time he will ever walk the streets of Little Whinging. Outside of Harry's time at Hogwarts, the place is all he has ever known. But he's been dreaming of a scenario like this for as long as he can remember. He dreamed that his parents would come and knock on the door and he would return to his real life at home with them. Since going to Hogwarts he hasn't thought of the dream more than a handful of times, not since finding out how his parents had really died. Even so, he's never truly stopped wishing that it would happen.

And now it  _has_  happened, albeit in a very different way than he could have ever imagined. In his wildest thoughts he could never have expected any situation even remotely resembling his current one. How could anyone realistically believe their father could be the King of Atlantis? Harry's not even sure what that really means. How many Atlanteans are there? What kind of kingdom does his father rule? Does King even mean the same  _thing_ in Atlantis as it does on the surface?

These questions and more bounce around in Harry's head like pinballs. The more he thinks about it, the more nervous he becomes.  _What have I walked into?_  He tries in vain to suppress the pit that's formed in his stomach and regain the excitement he'd been feeling only minutes beforehand.

"Nervous huh?" Arthur smiles sympathetically down at him.

Harry can only manage a weak smile in response.

"Don't worry, I know the feeling. I was only a few years older than you when I was brought to Atlantis for the first time. I really had no idea what to expect, and I'd been told I was the rightful King. What was I supposed to know about ruling a kingdom?" Arthur ruminates as they continue walking past the rows of houses.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "You weren't born in Atlantis?"

Arthur shakes his head. "Not at all. I grew up with my father who was the Amnesty Bay Lighthouse keeper. My mother was the Queen of Atlantis, but I didn't know that until I was… maybe a little older than you are now, I guess."

That makes Harry feel a little better. Arthur hadn't grown up in Atlantis and hadn't known anything about them either, and he's turned out just fine. Better than fine really.

"Then your father wasn't Atlantean? How did he and your mother meet?" Harry asks. It seems strange that Arthur's father would have met an Atlantean considering most of the world doubts its very existence.

"An interesting story," Arthur smiles. "My father, along with being the lighthouse keeper, also made a fairly decent living as a fisherman. He was out in his boat one day when a storm struck. The way he told it, it was the biggest storm he had ever seen, a big call for one who lived by the ocean for his entire life. Anyway, during this storm his boat capsized. Instead of dying he was saved,  _'by a beautiful woman with long blonde hair,'_ " he says, mimicking what must have been his father's wistful tone.

"For only nine months they were together, but Dad said it was love at first sight, at least for him. After she gave birth to me she said goodbye and vanished into the ocean without any explanation. Throughout all the time she knew him, I don't think she ever explained where she had come from. I think Dad maybe thought she was a mermaid," Arthur laughs, though Harry can detect a little sadness behind it. Arthur and his father had obviously been close.

"But," Harry interrupts. "Why did she leave?"

Arthur's smile fades away. "From what I hear," he says, "my mother loved the surface world, hence why she spent so much time with my father. But she was still the Queen of Atlantis, and she had a duty to her people. She married the Atlantean General Orvax and mothered another child, my younger brother Orm. Together they ruled Atlantis until first Orvax died, and my mother soon after," Arthur says sadly. "I never got the chance to officially meet her."

Harry looks towards the ground, feeling suddenly awkward. He knows exactly how it feels to not know anything about one's mother. "How did she...?" He asks uncertainly.

Arthur shrugs slightly. "It was never really clear. One day she was fine and the next she was sick and quickly deteriorating. It was so close after Orvax's that it was deemed she died of heartbreak."

"I see," Harry says quietly, not knowing what else to say. He's distracted by Arthur veering off to the left, in the direction of the nearby park. Arthur sits down on one of the nearby swings.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asks quizzically. "Wait, where are we actually going?" he asks, realizing that they've basically been aimlessly wandering the streets of Little Whinging. He sits in the swing next to Arthur's.

"I just want to give you a bit more information before you make a final decision on whether to come to Atlantis with me," Arthur explains. "We could've done it back at your aunt and uncles, but I really wanted to get out of there. This whole neighbourhood gives me the creeps."

Harry's stomach begins roiling yet again.  _I thought the decision was already made? I really hope I don't have to go back…_

Arthur once again must see the worried look on his face. "Sorry Harry, poor choice of words. Whether you decide to come to Atlantis or not, you'll still be with me. You never have to return to  _them._ "

Harry looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "But you told Dumbledore that I'll be going to Atlantis, and that it's the safest place for me, right?"

"It is, but if you decide you don't want to, I'll take you to my home in Amnesty Bay and I'll protect you myself.  _Your_  choice is what matters to me, not you teachers." Harry immediately relaxes and smiles widely. It's rare for him to have such a choice about his own life. He always seems to be thrust into things without his opinion being of much value at all.

"So why wouldn't I want to go to Atlantis?" he questions.

"Because," Arthur sighs. "Once you reach Atlantis, your life will never be the same.  _You_ will never be the same." Harry gazes into Arthur's eyes, so blue that they seemed reflect the ocean even despite being nowhere near it. "You know I am the King. That makes you the Prince. If you decide to go to Atlantis you will be named Prince of Atlantis, the heir to the throne," Arthur explains.

_How did I not even think about that? A Prince? Me?_ Harry's not even sure he can effectively look after himself, let alone an entire kingdom that he hasn't even seen yet.

"Atlantean culture and law says that one of the line of Atlan must be our sovereign. That's  _our_  line. It doesn't necessarily mean that  _you_ specifically have to become King, assuming I have other children, but you are currently my sole heir, so you will be groomed as my successor," Arthur explains.

"Of course, you don't  _have_ to become the King if you don't want to. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. Even so, going to Atlantis means you will be named Prince, and you'll be treated as the next ruler even if you never intend to actually become King," he continues.

"If there's no pressure to become King, I might as well go to Atlantis. I'd love to see it," Harry sighs in relief. Just the thought of being forced to lead an entire nation of people makes him feel queasy, but if there's nothing truly forcing it on him, then what reason does he have  _not_ to?

Arthur shakes his head slowly. "That's not all," Arthur says. " _You_ will be different as well. Physically, I mean."

Harry frowns. "I'm not going to like, grow gills or webbed feet or something am I?"

Arthur chuckles softly. "No, nothing like that. You'll still look like you," he hesitates for a moment before continuing. "When you go underwater deep enough, your Atlantean genes will kick in. When you come out again you'll be stronger, faster, more durable. You'll see and hear better. The deeper you go, the more drastic these changes become, until you are well and truly stronger and faster than even the peak of what surface dwellers can become."

"Really?" Harry asks, surprised. "Is it magic that only affects Atlanteans or something?"

Arthur nods uncertainly. "Of a sort," he says. "You see, if you weren't Atlantean, you would never survive going that deep into the ocean, and not because you couldn't breathe underwater. For a non-Atlantean the pressure and temperature would be deadly. If one were to be at the depth of Atlantis for example, they'd be dead almost instantly. The ocean's pressure is that great."

"The average depth of the ocean would mean the pressure of say, an elephant balancing on a postal stamp. This is why Atlanteans are so much stronger than those on the surface. Our bodies are able to move freely under that great pressure because our Atlantean muscles compensate and become stronger," he finishes.

"So I'll be stronger" Harry repeats. "I don't really get why that's such a problem." If anything, becoming that much stronger sounds great, especially for someone like him who had always been thin and slight.

Arthur stops to look Harry dead in the eye. "I know it must sound great to a boy your age, but it can have  _deadly_ consequences. If you were to ever get into a fight and punch someone, you could kill them instantly. Even a simple handshake could crush all the bones in someone's hand if you aren't in control of yourself."

_This explains why Arthur seems so serious._

"But it  _can_ be controlled," Arthur promises. "If you come to Atlantis you'll need to be trained. As the Prince you will be taught how to fight. You will be molded into a warrior, and a true warrior is always in control of his or her body."

Harry thinks carefully. "You're sure it can be controlled? I don't want to give someone a hug and crush them or something."

" _I_  learned."

Harry's not sure just how much more information he could take in in one night. "Is that everything?"

Arthur nods again with a sympathetic smile. "It's everything  _important_ that you need to know, at least. If you don't want to decide right now, we can just go to Amnesty Bay until you make-"

Harry cuts him off. "No, I think I'd like to go to Atlantis," he decides quickly. If he gives himself time to think about all the reasons not to go, he might take forever to make a decision. He musters his Gryffindor courage and decides to simply go for it.

"You're sure?" Arthur asks.

Harry nods quickly. "I'm sure," he says, standing up and looking around. "But uh… How do we actually  _get_ there?"

Arthur smiles widely at him.

 

* * *

 

"That was amazing!" Harry yells, Arthur removing his arm from where it had been around Harry's waist.

Arthur, it seems, has no need of traditional transportation. Harry had been expecting a car to take them to the ocean, and then a boat or maybe even a plane to take them on to Atlantis. He was hardly expecting Arthur to pick him up and  _jump_ to the coast. Arthur hadn't been kidding when he said Atlanteans were strong. It had only taken about ten massive leaps before they landed next to the ocean.

"Glad you enjoyed it," Arthur laughs.

Harry can't wipe the smile from his face. As much as he enjoys flying on a broomstick, there is something that feels even more free when you have nothing but air beneath you, even if it isn't true flight. Arthur takes several steps from the beach and into the water before turning back towards Harry.

"Ready?" he asks.

Harry looked quizzically along the horizon for a boat. "But… how are we getting to Atlantis?" he asks.

"We swim of course," Arthur says, as if it were the simplest explanation in the world.

Harry scowls at him, thinking he's being mocked. Arthur's expression remains completely serious.

"You're serious?" he asks, giving his father his best 'are you crazy' look. "But I can't swim!"

Arthur smiles gently and nods. "Yes you can. You're Atlantean." He holds out a hand towards Harry. "Trust me," he says.

Arthur is Harry's father, of that he is certain, but logically he still doesn't know him that well. Harry ought not trust him so easily, but there just something about Arthur that is intrinsically  _honest_. Harry feels a connection to Arthur that he has never felt with anyone else, so much so that he's able to erase all his doubt and step into the water in front of him. "I do," he answers.

Arthur sinks himself down and moves under the water. With a nervous, deep breath, Harry does the same. Even though it's night-time, and underwater, Harry can see everything around him perfectly. He feels his hair waving about in the current, the water rushing in small waves over his head. Even being underwater, he feels as though he's breathing fresher air than he would have been even above the water. It's the only time except after falling off the cliff in Amnesty Bay that he's ever been fully submerged like this, but he still can't believe he didn't realize before just how…  _right_  it feels.

Next to him, Arthur zooms forward at tremendous speed, almost so fast that Harry can't see it, before he turns around and faces him about twenty metres away. "Try and make your way towards me," Arthur instructs. Where he is right now, Harry can still stand up and put his head above the water. Arthur is in far deeper water. Again, Harry swallows his doubts. Some part of him already knows how to do it. He moves his arms and kicks his legs, willing his way through the water.

He's not prepared for how quickly moves. It's probably less than half as fast as Arthur had moved, but it's still far quicker than he expected. Arthur has to catch and stop him. "Can't doubt that you're my son now, right?" Arthur laughs.

Harry smiles just as widely back at him. He could never have imagined how it would actually feel being in the ocean water like this. He was born to be here.

"Let's see what you're made of!" Arthur says enthusiastically, speeding off towards the open ocean. With a laugh, Harry takes off after him. He knows Arthur is slowing down so Harry can keep pace with him, but they're still moving faster than Harry previously would have believed was even possible. Arthur slows even more so Harry can swim alongside him. "Nothing quite like this feeling is there?" he asks.

"It's amazing," is all Harry is able to say.

"You want to see something  _truly_  amazing? Follow me." Until now they had been swimming along the surface, but now Arthur is swimming downwards into the depths. Harry follows down below before his eyes widen in wonderment. Fish of all shapes and sizes swim as far as his eyes can see. The ocean floor is covered in coral just as colorful as the fish that called it home. It is by far the most breathtaking thing he has ever seen.

Harry and Arthur swim straight through them, slowly enough so that they can drink it in. Harry turns suddenly when he feels something brush against his leg. Swimming next to him is a large silvery dolphin, which speeds up to look him right in the eye. The dolphin makes a loud noise, almost sounding like a laugh. When Arthur laughs on his other side, Harry realizes the dolphin  _is_ laughing at him.

"They come so close," Harry says, utterly awed.

"They recognize one of their own," Arthur answers. "This is the beauty of Atlantis. Down here is a world that nobody on the surface can even begin to understand, even if they think they do. No-one besides an Atlantean can ever master the sea like humanity has mastered the land."

Arthur speeds up ahead. Harry lingers and looks around for another few moments before catching up to him. "We're getting close," Arthur says.

Harry's nerves come back almost instantly. "Already?" If he had to guess, he would say they had only been swimming for maybe less than an hour.

Arthur nods. "We've been moving quickly. We're actually in the middle of the North Atlantic now." He knows they had been moving fast, but that seems impossible. Not even the plane that they had taken to America had moved that quickly. Not even close in fact. Arthur doesn't give him too much time to think about it before he's continuing. "When we arrive we will be going straight to the palace. The entire city is expecting us, so there will be a lot of people around."

"They're  _expecting_ us?" Harry asks, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Arthur chuckles again. "You don't have to make a speech or anything, don't worry. People will just be wanting to get a look at their new Prince. We just have to do a little ceremony."

Harry swallows nervously.

"It won't be anything difficult for you. All you really have to do is prove you are of royal blood by picking up a trident."

Arthur slows to a stop, Harry stops next to him. "A Trident?" he asks.

Arthur holds out his hand like he had at the Dursley's. His golden trident once more forms in his hand, as if from nothing. "This is the Trident of Neptune," Arthur explains. "It is wielded by the King or Queen of Atlantis. There is a similar trident known as the Trident of Poseidon that is wielded by the Prince. It is normally held by the one intended to be the next King or Queen, and like I said, you are my only heir, therefore it falls to you. Only those of royal blood can wield the tridents."

"So if I pick up the trident it proves I am your son?" Harry asks. "Doesn't sound too difficult."

Arthur smiles proudly. "Good," he says. "But first thing's first," he waves his trident slowly through the water in front of Harry. Where the trident moved, Harry's clothes begin to change, just like Arthur's had done at the Dursleys. In the end he's wearing a golden mail shirt similar to Arthur's, only his is short sleeved. On his bottom half he wears green leggings like Arthur's. He wears thin golden gauntlets encrusted with a large emerald with matching boots. He feels armoured up enough to take part in a great battle.

"Have to make sure you look the part," Arthur says, nodding in satisfaction at his handiwork. "Poseidonis is just over that rise," Arthur explains, pointing to the nearby hill. "Ready?"

Harry takes a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

They start off once again. At the top of the crest, Harry stops again to take in the view. Poseidonis is magnificent. It is full with large domed buildings lined with gold and marble, some with elaborate spires and statues. It reminds Harry a little of what Ancient Rome or Greece look like in movies, with large and intricately designed pillars. It lights up the ocean floor like a spotlight.

"Impressive, isn't it," Arthur says. Impressive seems vastly insufficient for the glory of Atlantis. "Welcome home," Arthur adds softly before continuing forward into the city.

He hasn't even been  _into_ the city yet, but inexplicably it already feels like home to him. The only place Harry has ever felt connected to in his life is Hogwarts, but somehow Poseidonis is calling him home more than Hogwarts  _ever_ has. It's like a pull on his soul. This is where he's meant to be. Where he was  _always_ meant to be. He appreciates the fact that they're underwater - maybe nobody will notice the tears welling in his eyes. He follows Arthur into the city.

Arthur points out the palace to him, a massive structure that sits atop an underwater mountain above the rest of the city as if looking over it. As they swim towards it, more and more people seem to be waiting on the streets between the buildings. Some even cheer as they swim by. It's a little awkward knowing that it's  _him_ everyone is there to see.

By the time they're almost upon the palace the crowd is amassed in huge numbers, only allowing a thin gap for Arthur and Harry to swim through. Where they swim, the crowd cheers loudly until they're all applauding enthusiastically. Harry blushes ferociously.

In front of the palace, looking like ants in comparison to the size of the building, float three people. In the middle is a red-haired woman wearing a full body suit of green scale mail, not unlike Arthur's, and now Harry's, golden shirts.

To her left is a black haired man dressed in purple scale mail lined with silver. He wears silver pauldrons, gauntlets and boots. He has a short black beard and wields a silver curved trident.

To the woman's right is an elderly white haired man. He wears a simple blue robe rather than the armour the other two wear.

Arthur gestures for Harry to approach them. He swims close to the red haired woman and gently wraps an arm around her waist. Harry realizes immediately that she must be Mera, the Queen and Arthur's wife. She smiles kindly in Harry's direction. It's not difficult to see the appeal his father has for her; she's probably the most beautiful woman Harry has ever seen in his life.

The two of them slowly move aside to reveal the golden trident sticking into the ground behind them. Harry looks at Arthur questioningly, who nods at him in encouragement.

This is the moment. If he picks up that trident, everything will change forever, even more than it already has. It's still hard to believe how just earlier that night he had been having an average night with the Dursley's, and now he's at the bottom of the ocean, potentially about to become a Prince. He slowly approaches the trident.

The crowd has become incredibly silent behind him. Harry can _feel_ their anticipation, waiting to see if he truly  _is_  their prince. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Tentatively, he reaches for the hilt of the trident. As soon as his skin makes contact he could feel its power. It's the exact same feeling he had when his wand had chosen him at Ollivander's. The trident is accepting him, melding with his magic.

He lifts it up and turns around to face his father, who looks on with pride. Mera smiles next to him. On either side of them the black and white-haired men are kneeling, their heads bowed low. Arthur gestures for Harry to move forward in front of himself and Mera. Still holding the golden trident, he faces the crowd outside the palace, all of whom are bent low just like the two men besides Arthur and Mera.

Arthur yells out in a booming voice. "Hail Harry Atlan-Son, Prince of Atlantis!"


	6. The Council

**Chapter 6 – The Council**

 

"Hail Harry Atlan-son. Prince of Atlantis," his father called. With all his experience being the boy-who-lived, Harry would have thought he'd be used to having people cheer and admire him. But even being the sole survivor of the killing curse could never have prepared him for having a city full of people applaud him as their Prince.

Arthur puts a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently turns him towards the entrance of the palace; though in truth it looks more like some sort of shimmering magical barrier than a door. Harry can even see through it a little, though the vision beyond is blurred and fuzzy. Harry swims forward with Arthur at his side, Mera and the two other men following closely behind.

"Before you go through the barrier, straighten yourself like you are about to stand up. Watch me first," Arthur advises him quietly, so just he can hear. Like he advised, Arthur turns himself upwards so that he's vertical before floating forwards through the barrier. Harry sees his blurry form land on his feet on the other side. Harry repeats his actions, landing smoothly on the other side.

Apparently, the inside of the buildings in Atlantis aren't underwater. Not only does the barrier keep the water and cold outside, but it has him dry as well. Before Harry even gets the chance to get his first look at the palace interior, Mera is bending down in front of him to meet him at eye level.

"You look just like Arthur," she whispers, squeezing his face gently with one hand. She turns his head from side to side to continue her inspection. "It's quite uncanny," she continues softly, seemingly to herself. "But you look healthy enough, perhaps a little underfed."

"Harry," Arthur says, causing Mera to back off and stand up with a blank face. "This is my wife Mera."

"It's great to meet you," Harry says with as polite a tone as he can manage. Of all the people he's likely to meet in Atlantis, this is the one which he  _really_ wants to make a good impression. After all, as Arthur's wife, she's his new stepmother.

_I can't even process that right now._ Harry decides to shelf the revelation away in his head for later. "Uhm, what should I call you?" he asks apologetically. The last thing he wants is to offend her, and he doesn't know whether to simply call her Mera, Queen Mera, Majesty, or something else altogether.

Mera turns her head to the side, seemingly examining him further before she smiles back. "I think perhaps Mera is best. No need for titles between family," she answers. Harry smiles back at her. There's something about her demeanor that makes her seem colder than Arthur, but there's nothing that suggests openly that she bears him any ill-will.

"Well let me have a look at him!" A deep voice from behind Mera exclaims happily. Mera steps aside as the black-haired man steps forward and puts both of his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Well met Nephew. My name is Orm. You can call me uncle, if you wish," he says.

_Then this must be Arthur's brother, or half-brother. And I have an uncle, too._ Like the realization that Mera is his stepmother, Harry doesn't even know how to process that he now has an uncle too. Too many disclosures for just one night.

Orm looks over Harry's shoulder to talk to his brother. "Well he certainly made a less awkward entrance than you did, brother," he says with a small laugh. "I can still see you landing on your face as you entered."

Harry turns around to see Arthur cross his arms with a mock frown. "At least I had the foresight to tell him  _how_  to enter. How was I meant to know the interiors weren't underwater as well?" he huffs, but there's no real heat in his annoyance.

In any case, it only serves to make Orm laugh harder. He claps Harry on the back, almost knocking him to the ground. "Just imagine, nephew! Here comes Arthur, the long lost Prince! Behold his royal entrance! Along the floor… on his face," Orm howls with laughter.

Harry smiles in amusement. He wants to laugh, but he doesn't want to mock his father the same night as meeting him. For all he knows Arthur is sensitive, and hates being made fun of. He doesn't seem the type, but Harry hates knowing that he genuinely doesn't know such a fact about his own father.

Arthur rolls his eyes, but he looks slightly amused as well. "And this is Nuidis Vulko," he says, now ignoring the still laughing Orm.

The white-haired man turns to face Harry. "A pleasure, Prince Harry. I serve Arthur as his advisor and head scientist," he nods curtly.

"It's good to meet you," Harry answers politely, dipping his head.

He finally gets the chance to look around the gloriously decorated room. It's just as lavish as he would expect a royal palace to be. Everything seems to be lined with gold. The most eye-catching feature of the room is the large golden chandelier that hangs in the centre. Initially, he thinks that it is decorated by some sort of white jewels, from the way that they seem to reflect the light. On closer inspection though, he realizes that they aren't jewels at all, but rather tiny balls of ethereal light on their own, floating just above the intricately carved metal.

The lights cause him to frown in confusion. "Is that lit by magic?" he asks.

Mera is the one to answer him. "Yes, all of Atlantis is powered by magic." She gives him a strange look. "I'm surprised a surface dweller would know of magic. Has Arthur already told you of it?"

"Apparently, people on the surface have retained some level of magic," Arthur answers for him. He shakes his head when Mera shoots him a questioning look. "I'll explains later," he follows up dismissively. "Right now, I think we should call it a day."

There's been too much happening for Harry to notice it before, but now that Arthur has mentioned it, he  _is_ tired. It has to be in the early hours of the morning by now, probably only a couple of hours at most until daylight, though Harry doubts that the sunrise will even affect him this deep underwater.

"Too right, brother," Orm agrees. "It was a pleasure meeting you nephew, I'm sure I will see you again soon," he continues before walking off towards the grand staircase.

_He must live here as well. I guess that's not surprising, he would be royalty, too._

"Of course, my King. I will be off as well," Vulko turns around and walks back towards the entrance. Before leaving he turns to face Harry one more time. "I almost forgot! Welcome to Atlantis," he smiles before heading back through the barrier.

Harry lowers his head to the floor and smiles, a little embarrassed. It's just another reminder that this is Harry's new home. He doesn't have to return to the Dursley's  _ever_ again.

"I'll show you to your room," Arthur says.

 

* * *

 

For a moment after waking up, Harry thinks he's in his bedroom at Privet Drive. As soon as he opens his eyes and sees the massive room he's in though, his memories from the night before come flooding back to him. He climbs out of the luxuriously comfortable bed with a wide smile and approaches the window which stretches out along his curved wall.

Well, he would call it a window, but in the end it's certainly not glass that he can see through. Instead it looks more like there's nothing there at all, though Arthur had assured him the night before that nobody can see in from the outside, and that it's a similar magical barrier to the doors.

From the 'window' he can look over the entire city of Poseidonis. He can see Atlantean citizens swimming between the buildings in the distance, completely unaware of how incredible their very existence is to him. Many of the buildings are wrapped up with vines that glow in different colors like neon lights, giving the city a strange ethereal glow. He can't help but think of Neville and Professor Sprout, and how much they would love to study them.

He notices more than the night before just how unique the city is compared to any on the surface, outside of it being on the ocean floor of course. It's architecture alone is unlike anything Harry has ever seen. Some parts of the city look ancient, and yet completely new and untouched at the same time. It's like a picture of an ancient city, complete with ornately designed columns and domes. Then there's other buildings that had a different vibe altogether. These forgo the ancient look entirely and instead looked more futuristic, like straight out of a science fiction movie. Somehow, the two styles don't seem out of place side by side.

The upper ring of the city seems to have been built up and around a mountain, with the palace and his bedroom right at the summit. Some of the bigger, more official looking buildings preside underneath the palace, built around the mountain while the rest of the city stretches around it's base.

After a few minutes he reluctantly drags his gaze away from the window, determining to find his father. He puts on the golden scale armor Arthur had provided him the day before, making sure to pick up the Trident of Poseidon that rests against the wall. Before leaving the room he examines the trident more carefully. At the bottom it resembles a little like an arrow, with the gold having been forged into a fletching-like pattern at the end. Its long hilt is straight and solid until it reaches the fork at the top. Unlike Arthur's trident which has five, the Trident of Poseidon only had three prongs at the top. The middle blade is the longest, and unusually wide, with a sapphire-like gem embedded into its bottom just above where the fork meets the hilt.

He almost drops it when a loud chime sounds through the room. Harry guesses it must be the door barrier for his room. Fortunately, Arthur had shown Harry how to control them the night before. A little like the Trident, the room is keyed to his magic, and he wills the barrier away with a wave of his hand, revealing the man himself standing behind it.

"Good morning," He says casually, stepping into the room. "I'm glad you're up already, big day ahead."

"Really? What's happening today?" Harry asks. Even after sleeping, Harry's still a ball of nerves. He knows nothing about Atlantis, and amazing though it clearly is, fear of the unknown is a powerful thing.

"Remember what I said about you being treated as the future ruler of Atlantis? Well, that all begins today."

"So soon?" Harry asks, disappointed. He'd been hoping to just have the day, or even a few days, to get to actually get to  _know_ his father.

"Most Princes would be trained from birth to prepare to be King. Since you are coming here having already grown up,  _your_ training will need to be accelerated," he answers, looking sympathetic.

"Makes sense, I guess." He expected to have to begin learning early, but he hoped that he might be eased into it a little more. Instead, it sounds like he's going to be tossed in the deep end.

"Still, today will just be a tour around the city and meeting a few different people. Then tomorrow we go and meet your headmaster, so there is still a few days before training begins in earnest," Arthur says.

Harry nods, feeling relieved. He'd almost forgotten that Sirius would be coming the next day. Plus, if he doesn't truly start training for another two days, that still leaves a  _little_  time to try and get to know Arthur better as a person.

"How do you manage to get all of this food at the bottom of the ocean?" Harry asks in surprise, eyeing the dishes that have been placed around the table in front of them. In truth, Harry had been a little nervous to find out what Atlanteans ate. The only thing he could think of might be a diet made up entirely of fish, but instead he's looking at multiple bowls of incredibly fresh looking produce, plates of toast and even bacon and eggs.

"Atlantis is an incredibly magical place," Mera explains, slicing up a granny smith apple. "We use magic to create an environment where we can grow our own fruit and vegetables, not unlike your surface greenhouses. As for the meat…" she rolls her eyes at Arthur.

Arthur grins at Harry. "I grew up on the surface. I love Atlantis, but life without bacon just doesn't seem worth living." His face upturns and becomes mildly thoughtful. "I'm sure the chef's think me very extravagant and exotic, but I bring back food from the supermarket  _every_  time I go to Amnesty Bay," Arthur says. "But I hope you like fish, you'll probably be eating a lot of it."

"I like fish, but I  _love_  bacon," Harry admits with a grin that might as well be a replica of Arthur's own.

Arthur laughs. "A chip off the old block after all."

Harry can't help but smile, though he feels like a grinning idiot. Even if it's only about  _bacon_ of all things, it just feels so incredible to connect with his father.

"So where are we going today?" Harry asks, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Like I said," Arthur answers, taking a bite out of a piece of toast, "I just want to show you around today." He screws his nose up as he continues, "I guess I'd better introduce you to the Atlantean council too."

"Who's that?" Harry asks.

"Mostly bureaucrats," Arthur sighs. "Always coming to me with one thing or another. Each one generally holds responsibilities over some aspect of our society. They're like the government, though they all answer to the reigning monarch." The conversation is cut short by the sound of two people arguing in the next room. Harry looks across the table to see Mera rolling her eyes, and Arthur giving a slight shake of his head, though he's clearly amused.

"Those two will never change," Mera comments. Harry can't quite make out what the arguing pair are saying, but from the sound of them, they don't sound too old, definitely not adults. He sends a questioning look towards his father.

"If you're finished breakfast, I'll introduce you," Arthur says.

Harry takes a final bite of the bacon he'd been picking at before nodding and standing up. He's curious as to who the two are. It might be comforting to have younger people he knows in Poseidonis, after all. They move out of the dining room and out into a hallway, which separates the living area from the more official, purposeful rooms like the throne room. Just a few metres down the hallway are two young looking Atlanteans in the middle of heated argument.

"Oh please, how people can refer to you as a genius I'll  _never_  know," accuses the girl on the right. She's dressed in full body mail, not unlike Mera's, only hers is purple and has hints of black and silver in the gauntlets, boots and the helmet she wears. Reaching down her back from under her silver helmet is an exceptionally long brown ponytail. Harry can make out some of a pretty looking face underneath her helmet, though really he can only see her nose and the shadows of her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because I graduated the Silent School at  _thirteen_?" the boy next to her quips back. He wears scale mail like the girl, though it's the same shade of green as Mera's, and is sleeveless, revealing thick black tattoos lining his arms. Like the girl's, his gauntlets and boots are trimmed with silver and black. He doesn't wear a helmet and has his jet black hair tied up behind his head. Strapped across his back is a tall and ornate looking silver staff with a bladed end.

Before the girl can respond, she seems to sense Harry and Arthur's presence, and looks up with widened eyes, the boy following her example. "Do you think that's him?" he whispers. Harry's briefly puzzled that he can hear the whisper from as far down the hall as he is, until he remembers what Arthur had told him about enhanced senses.

_I guess the changes have already begun._

The girl rolls her eyes. "No, clearly just a stranger who looks  _exactly_  like our king and is holding the  _Trident of Poseidon,_ " she answers sarcastically. She seems to remember herself in the next moment when she bows low. "Apologies, King Orin." The boy bows a moment later.

Arthur brushes their apology aside with a wave of his hand. "Relax Tula, there's no need to be so formal," he says before turning to Harry. "This is Tula," he nods towards the girl, "and Garth," he says, this time motioning towards the boy. "They will be your royal guard."

"Royal Guard?" Harry asks with raised eyebrows. He hadn't really thought about needing anything like that in his new role, but he supposes it's normal, if that word can be used in his current situation. Despite that, it makes him slightly uncomfortable, and it seems unusual to him that they can't be much older than he is, if at all.

"Don't let their age deceive you," Arthur says, sensing what Harry's is thinking. "Tula and Garth are considered prodigies in their respective areas of study. Tula here is a master combatant with any weapon you can think of, and Garth is Mera's own magical apprentice."

"It is an honor to meet you, Prince Harry," Garth says, bowing once again.

Harry is taken aback at the boy's action. It's one thing to know that people will be bowing to him, but it's different to experience it. "Oh uh, just Harry is fine," he says nervously, hoping that it's allowed.

If it's not, nobody tells him otherwise, and Tula even looks a little pleased at his response. "Good to meet you then, Harry," she says. Of the two of them, she's clearly the less formal.

"Don't worry, Tula and Garth will take good care of you" Mera says, stepping through the door behind them. "Though it would be nice if they could stop  _bickering_  while they meet their new charge," she says, directing a serious eye towards Garth.

Tula doesn't look even slightly bothered by Mera's admonishment, but Garth looks down in shame. "Of course, Queen Mera. It won't happen again," he promises.

Mera's look softens. "Don't make promises you can't keep." Garth smiles slightly as he lifts his head to meet her gaze. The two are clearly quite close.

"I'll leave it to the two of you to explain your duties to Harry, but right now we have a meeting with the Council, so it'll have to wait until later," Arthur tells the two of them. He puts his hand softly on Harry's back, urging him to move forward and follow him, Mera walking beside him. They continue through the palace, with Harry looking around in awe at its splendor, until they come into the Palace entrance room where Harry met Orm, Mera and Vulko just the night before.

Having been too entranced with looking around the palace, Harry hadn't realized that Garth and Tula were only a few steps behind him. He had thought that Arthur meant they would rejoin him later, but apparently their duty has already begun.

"The Council chambers are the next building down Mount Nysos," Arthur says, stepping through the barrier to the outside. Harry can see his fuzzy form floating outside, waiting for them. Harry places a hand on the jelly-like barrier, pushing through it and out into the ocean water. As soon as he's submerged, he feels the same sense of  _rightness_  that he had when he had his first 'true' swim in the ocean only yesterday. He wonders idly if the feeling will ever wear off.

"So this is Mount Nysos?" Harry asks, hoping he's pronounced it correctly.

"Yep," Arthur says. "The mountain is the center of the city, and the location of all the major seats of Government." He gestures behind them. "The Royal Palace obviously at the summit," He then points down the mountain, where Harry can see many grandiose looking buildings spiraling around it. "Then there are buildings for each section of Government all around it, with the Council Chambers the next building down from the Palace."

The city around the base of the mountain stretches for miles, farther than he can see even with his newly enhanced vision. It's absolutely massive, but with the speed that Atlanteans could swim, it's size doesn't really seem to make it much of a problem. He can see Atlanteans darting around through the water, taking care of their daily business.

It seems stupid to him now that he thought it might not have been, but he can't believe just how  _alive_ the city is, just as much as any on the surface. It's size is also surprising. It's true that he couldn't help but doubt the size of Atlantis when he'd learned about it the day before, logically thinking that an entire civilization could hardly be kept a secret unless quite small, but Poseidonis has to have  _millions_ of people living within it.

_I wonder if there are other Atlantean cities…_

Harry pushes himself through the water after Arthur and Mera. They head towards a large golden domed building, lush with the same glowing colorful vines he had seen from his room. They continue through the barrier to the building, this one much larger than the palace, easily big enough for tens of people to pass through without even brushing each other as they pass. A part of the building stretches out over the entrance, with a large window above them that looks out over the city, though Harry can't see any detail on the inside, just light, not unlike his bedroom at the palace.

The inside is bustling with people. It makes sense though, since Arthur had described it as the Council headquarters, and the Council is like the Government. The people inside must be quite used to the King's presence though, none of them really looking towards him twice. Harry does catch a few of them peering closer at  _him,_ however.

They continue up a grand staircase and back around to above the entrance barrier, Garth and Tula still following closely behind. They enter the room that sits above the entrance to the building. Inside is a large round table, with several very important looking people sitting around its edge, chatting idly. The large window spreads a sort of blueish hue across the room.

They stop talking and stare blankly at the group when Garth closes the doors. He and Tula stand with their backs to the entrance and silently scan the room for any danger. Those sitting around the table all stand after a moment and simultaneously put their palm flat across their chest and dip their heads in greeting. It's almost like a salute, Harry notices.

"Hello again, nephew," A man's voice sounds from across the other side of the table. Harry recognizes it as the voice of his uncle Orm, and sure enough the black haired man is smiling across the room at him. "Good to have you with us, Prince Harry," says a bald, dark skinned man diplomatically. He has a strange silvery looking tattoo that wraps around the sides of his head. It seems to travel around the back of his head as well.

"Harry, this is Seneschal Kae," Arthur says. The man dips his head again. "His role is a little like your Prime Minister's."

"And this…" he says, gesturing to the man to his left, a tall, muscular looking man with trimmed salt and pepper hair and a short beard, "is Koah, the Elder of Laws." He doesn't explain what his role is, but judging from the title it seems fairly self-explanatory. The man wears a long flowing blue robe.

Arthur then goes on to introduce the rest of the group. Next is Zeekil Neol, a man with tidy silver hair and a middle-aged face. He is composed the way Harry would assume a warrior to look, tall and proud, which is unsurprising given his title of High Lord of the Armies. He wears scale mail not too different from Tula's, including the purple colour, though his has large bronze pauldrons, boots and gloves. His scale is lined with black.

After Zeekil comes Carcharodor, the Mistress of the Fleet. She has dark skin and black hair that is tied into a complex bow of cords and knots. She wears blue scale with a long black cape flowing behind her.

Then there's Jurok Byss, a bald and terrifying looking man with a jagged scar over his left eye. His visage seems sort of appropriate though, with him being the Master of the Beasts. Like Zeekil he has bronze pauldrons lined with black, though his own scale is red.

Rowa, the Elder of Science, is definitely the most non-threatening person in the room. She has medium length jet black hair and is looking at Harry with a kind smile. Like Seneschal Kae and Koah, she doesn't wear scale, opting instead for what looks like a longer set of women's one piece swimwear, though the material isn't like anything Harry has seen before. She too has silvery looking tattoos on her arms.

Finally there is Rajar, the Elder of Sorcery. He has long flowing brown hair and intricate black tattoos lining both of his sleeveless arms. He wears almost identical green scale and armor to that of Garth.

"And you've already met Orm and Vulko," Arthur says. Vulko nods politely at him. "Together the nine of them make up the Atlantean Royal Council, answering directly to the Royal family of matters under their jurisdiction."

"So they're kind of like the Atlantean Parliament?" Harry asks.

"If I may, King Orin?" Seneschal Kae asks, clearly wanting to answer Harry's question. Arthur nods his approval. "On a broad scale, the Atlantean Council serves mostly the same purpose as the Parliament you are used to on the surface," the Seneschal explains. "The nine of us, under the guidance of the King and Queen, run the Kingdom from day to day. King Orin and Queen Mera attend daily meetings where they are advised onplans for our respective areas of authority, but final decisions always rests with them."

"Speaking of which, King Orin, I wanted to talk to you about the new Kraken class ship-" Carcharodor interrupts before Arthur holds his hand up for her to stop.

"Just give us a moment and Mera and I will be with you," he says calmly.

"Tula, Garth, if you could take Harry on to the military training compound, we will catch up with you after the council meeting," he says to Harry's guards by the door. Garth nods and opens the door for Harry to step back through. "It might be a good opportunity to tell Harry about your other duties, Tula," Arthur says. There's a strange glint in his eye, as if he's trying to communicate something to only her.

Tula smirks slightly and nods before following Harry and Garth out of the room. There's something about the brief look between Arthur and Tula that has Harry a little nervous.


	7. The Life of a Prince

**Chapter 7 - The Life of a Prince**

 

It's fairly awkward traveling through the city with just Garth and Tula. It's not like he knows his father all that well, but his presence in such a new and mysterious place has been more comforting than he'd realized. "So, we're going to the military training compound?" Harry asks, hoping to lessen the tension by simply talking to his two guards.

"We're going to  _a_ military training compound," Garth clarifies. "There are military compounds all throughout Atlantis, and indeed even several within the borders of Poseidonis. The one we're going to at the base of the mountain is the home of the Drift."

"The Drift?" Harry asks. Every answer he gets in Atlantis just seems to give him more questions.

"Atlantis' most elite forces. Members of the Drift can come from any branch of the military, but must be exceptionally skilled and have proven their dedication to the protection of our nation," Tula says. "See the black in our armor?" She points to the black part of the gauntlet on her left hand. "Only the Drift is allowed to wear it."

Harry can't mistake the pride in her voice as she says it. Arthur  _had_  said that Tula and Garth are considered prodigies, but to be a part of an elite military force? It's hard to believe they could have achieved such a thing at their young age. "If you don't mind me asking… How old are you?" Harry asks. Again, it strikes Harry that Atlantis is like nothing he has ever known on the surface. For all he knows, Atlanteans might age differently to people on the surface, and Tula and Garth might just be far older than they appear.

"Both Tula and I age fourteen years, Prince Harry," Garth responds dutifully. "In Atlantis, one's actions and abilities are more important than how many years they have been alive," he adds, guessing the reason the question was asked.

"Here we are," Tula says. By now they've reached the bottom of Mount Nysos, and are floating in front of a large cavern opening that seems to lead inside the mountain itself. There are two soldiers, in purple and black scale armor much like Tula's, guarding the entrance.

"After you, Harry," she says.

Garth shoots her an admonishing look, presumably at her omission of Harry's title.

_I wish he would forget it, too._

Harry swims forwards into the cave. The two guards lift their left arms to their chest and bow slightly in respect as he moves past. Every time someone makes such a formal move for him, he feels like he should like behind him to see who they are really bowing to. It's definitely going to take some getting used to.

The first thing he notices inside is that the cave splits off into two separate paths to the left and right. From the left Harry can hear a slight rumbling noise, almost like the purring of a cat, only much deeper. He's certain the sounds comes from something living, but he's got no idea what makes him so sure of it.

"This way," Tula says, moving past him and towards the path leading off to the right.

"What's on the other side?" Harry asks.

"That's where Jurok Byss does his work," Garth says. "I believe King Orin intends to take you there himself."

Jurok Byss. Arthur had called him the Master of Beasts, but that doesn't necessarily have to mean what it sounds like. That said, if whatever is on the other side of the cave is alive, it means that Councilor Byss' title is very likely literal. They swim past several more guards, their armor too adorned with black, though some wear green, others blue or red as well. Each of them salute Harry in the same way as the guards outside.

"So only the Drift wear black?" Harry asks. "Do the other colors mean anything?"

"Very perceptive," Garth notes. "Each branch of military has its own colour. My scale is green, and so I belong, or at least I did so before joining the Drift, to the Silent School, the Sorcery branch."

"You don't belong with them anymore?" Harry asks, thinking about the way Garth had explained it.

"Yes and no," Garth says uncertainly. "The Drift is it's own organization, but we wear the color of our previous affiliation so that everyone else will know where our specialty lies."

"I see," Harry says. "What about the other colors?"

"Purple is for the armies," Tula says. "The  _superior_ branch," she adds, clearly for Garth's benefit, judging by the scornful expression that appears on his face. "We are the warriors, and receive training mostly in melee combat."

"Blue is for the Fleet," Garth says, taking over from Tula. "They operate the military's vehicles and specialize in ranged weapons. Red is for the Beastmasters, by far the smallest branch. They fight alongside the beasts that they raise themselves."

"Right," Harry says. That means Jurok Byss' title must be absolutely literal.

"Of course, being a part of one branch doesn't necessarily limit one from having knowledge of any of the other branches. Generally, it just means that they have more training in one field than in the others. This is especially true of those in the Drift, since we are free to study however we choose," Garth says.

Before Harry can answer him, Tula interrupts. "But for today at least, you only need to be worrying about melee combat."

Harry is about to ask what she means, but the end of the long cave tunnel is now in sight, being one of the magical barriers that separate the ocean from the interior of buildings. They swim through and land on their feet on the other side.

The inside cavern is incredibly vast. The outside wall is still cave-like, but in the centre is just what he'd pictured in his mind, a military training facility. There are plenty of soldier types walking around, as well as pairs fighting with weapons that sweep through the air with a blur. There are a few shooting some sort of energy guns at targets, and even one man with glowing arm tattoos who is throwing fireballs against the wall of the cave.

"This is the Drift," Tula says in a welcoming tone.

There are many in the large room who don't notice his presence and continue with their training, but there are just as many who do and lift their hands to their chest in salute. It's very unnerving. These are the most elite soldiers in the Kingdom, and they look the look, too, yet here they are saluting  _him_.

"This way, Harry," Tula says. Harry follows his two guards over to the side of the room, where a staircase leads up to the floor above. The area on the higher floor is far more organized than the one below, and Harry can see the entrances to multiple different rooms, as well as another staircase at the side leading even further upwards.

"This is the young Prince?" A gruff, deep voice questions from nearby.

Harry almost flinches when he sees who spoke. Despite the fact that he wears a thick bronze helm, it's easy to see that half of his face is mutilated beyond repair. It looks as though the left side of his face has been on fire, resulting in the loss of half of the flesh and even his eye. It doesn't make him look defeated or crippled though, instead adding to the natural intimidation that his massive form emanates. Beyond his face, the man is also missing a hand, but has had it replaced with a long, sharp and jagged blade like appendage. He wears a pauldron on his right shoulder that looks to be made of some sort of blue coral.

"It is, Commander," Tula says with a small bow. As much as Harry doesn't  _want_ Tula to bow to  _him_ , he can't help but miss that she bows to this man quite easily.

"Put him through his paces. Looks scrawny," the man rumbles before disappearing down the stairs.

"That was Murk, Commander of the Drift," Garth informs without prompting.

Before Harry can respond, Tula is moving towards the nearest barrier. "In here," she says.

The room beyond is large and bare, seemingly empty. It's completely white, almost blindingly so. Garth shuts the door behind him, and Harry watches in awe as the outline of the barrier door fades, melding into the same solid white as the rest of the room.

Tula steps forward, only for Harry to realize that the room isn't  _entirely_ empty. When she'd stepped forward, she'd gone through a second barrier, though this one is different from all the ones that Harry has seen so far in Atlantis. This one doesn't blur what lays behind it, only being noticeable by the way it shimmers slightly in the air, almost like the way heat waves can be seen on a hot day.

Garth prompts Harry to go through after her, and just as he does so, Tula flourishes her hand. In his peripherals, he sees the barrier ripple behind him.

"What was that?" he asks.

"The barrier activating. Just in case," Tula says cryptically.

"Just in case of wh-" Harry starts to ask. In the blink of an eye, Tula holds her hand out as a large spear forms in her hand, very much like Arthur's trident. She sweeps it under his legs, and he lands on his back, hard.

Harry scrambles backwards, making sure to drag his Trident along with him.

"What the hell was that?" he yells.

There's an unashamed smirk painted onto her features. "Do you remember King Orin saying that we have  _other_ duties? Well, the most important of these is to train you."

Harry frowns. "Is it common practice to begin training by knocking your trainee to the ground without even telling him it's training?" Harry grumbles, sitting upright.

Tula's face becomes rather serious. "You're beginning this training  _years_  after when you should be, and we need to mold you into a warrior in the shortest amount of time possible. We can't afford the luxury of being gentle. This training will be daily, and it will be  _intense,_ " Tula says. She walks over to Harry with an outstretched hand to help him up.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry reaches out to grab it. Instead of helping him up, Tula pulls her hand back and punches him in the jaw, knocking him back to the ground forcefully.

"Lesson one, never let your guard down with your enemy," she says, stalking over to the other side of the room, spinning her spear gracefully above her head.

Harry scrambles to his feet. "So now you're my guard, my trainer  _and_ my enemy?" Harry asks huffily, wiping his lip to check for blood.

She points the sharp end of her spear at him. "Outside of this room, I am sworn to defend you with my life," she says. That comment alone is enough to disarm his anger. The last thing he wants is  _more_  people dying for him. It's bad enough that there's two people who already have. "But in this room," she continues. "I am your trainer and your enemy both."

Harry stands firm and levels his trident in front of him, knowing he's more than likely doing it wrong. Rather than correct him, Tula launches from the other side of the room, and is on Harry almost instantly, spear pointed menacingly in front of her. Harry manages to sidestep just in time.

Tula twirls the spear and brings it down in an arc, changing her direction effortlessly in a single fluid motion. Again, only just in time, Harry brings up the haft of the trident to block it with a clang of metal on metal.

"Good," Tula comments. "Trust your instincts. You are royalty, which means that regardless of how much I train, I will never be as fast or as strong as you are at your weakest. That is what you are right now."

"But then, couldn't I hurt you accidentally?" Harry asks.

Harry immediately feels like an idiot. He's been in there with her for all of two minutes, and it's already spectacularly clear that he's outclassed in every way. Tula twists and stretches out her leg, hooking it behind Harry's and pulling back, causing Harry to fall backwards onto the ground once more. The spear in her hand disappears in a splash of water, and Tula leaps down on top of him, this time holding a small dagger at his throat.

"You might be faster and stronger, but I am infinitely more skilled and experienced. If you aren't actively trying to hurt me, you will  _never_ get through my defenses," she says with utter surety.

Harry feels the blood rush to his face as he realizes Tula is straddled on top of him, even despite the dagger she still holds at his throat. With a smirk, she climbs back to her feet. Harry climbs back to his feet as well and decides to make the first move. He thrusts forward with his Trident.

Tula doesn't seem at all surprised by the movement; her dagger disappearing in a splash of water and being replaced by a short sword and a large round shield. Harry's trident bounces harmlessly off the shield before Tula swings with the sword.

Harry moves his left leg back and watches as the sword sails harmlessly through the air where he was only a moment ago. He prepares himself to strike again, but unlike him, Tula knows instinctively what she's going to do next, and pushes forward with the shield.

Harry stumbles backwards, but manages to stay on his feet. Once more, Tula is directly in front of him and attempting to bash him with her shield. Harry grabs the shield by its edge and pulls, trying to pull her off her balance.

It doesn't even come close to having the effect he wants it to have. Tula simply detaches her arm from the shield and jumps backwards, laughing the whole time. The shield melts into water in his hand, until he's holding onto nothing but his Trident again.

"Good!" Tula exclaims. "You have the instincts of a warrior, even if you don't yet have the skill."

Harry smiles at the compliment. Tula slowly reaches behind her back, causing Harry to hold his trident forward in preparedness. Her hand darts back around, but this time holding an entirely different weapon in her hands.

Harry's eyes widen at the sight of the gun-like weapon in her hand. Before he can even cry out for her to stop, she fires, a large blue bolt of energy flying in his direction. It's doesn't move  _ridiculously_ fast, and if he hadn't hesitated at the sight of it, he might've even been able to dodge it. But he did hesitate, and so the bolt strikes him along the ribs as he tried to jump to the side. He cries out, more in surprise than in pain.

"Are you crazy?" Harry yells.

Tula doesn't look the slightest bit apologetic or worried. She holds the strange looking pistol up in the air in front of her. "It would take a lot more than one of these to kill you as you are now."

Their conversation is interrupted as Harry hears several claps from behind the magical barrier. With a wave of her hand, Tula releases her magic over it. The barrier shimmers, and one again it's safe to pass through. Harry hadn't even noticed Arthur and Mera come into the room. Harry blushes with the understanding that they've been watching his attempt at fighting.

"Good show. But Tula is right, that energy pistol can't do any lasting damage to you," Arthur says. "Certainly not with only a single shot."

Harry looks down towards his ribs, where the blast had hit him. The scale isn't even broken, and there is shockingly little pain. His brain just seems completely unable to process the changes his body has already gone through since coming to Atlantis.

"You're of royal blood, Harry," Arthur reinforces. "Remember what I said on the surface? Now that you've been down here, you're not the same as you were before."

"I don't feel any different though…" Harry says uncertainly. It's not a lie. Yes he had realized that he can hear slightly better earlier, but his movements don't feel faster, and he doesn't feel any stronger.

Arthur smiled. "And you won't, not until you get to the surface," he explains. "But you  _are._ If Tula had struck you like that before you had come to Atlantis you would very likely be dead."

"If you say so," Harry says, a little disbelievingly.

"I think that's enough combat training for today," Arthur states before turning to Tula. "Thoughts?" he asks.

Tula nods once. "He has potential. His instinct isn't to run from a fight, which means we won't have to spend time on that. He simply lacks technique," she says. "He moves like a drunkard."

"Hey!" Harry argues.

Tula shrugs, the ghost of a smile showing on her face.

"This training room has been set aside for you," Arthur tells him. "Every day Tula will train you here, followed by Garth, who will teach you magic. Afterwards Vulko will teach you about our culture and histories."

"Okay," Harry says. As daunting the prospect of it is, he can't help but be a little excited. It's thrilling to think that he might one day be able to move and fight like he had just seen Tula do.

"Some days I'll come and take you myself. There are certain aspects about being of royal blood that only I can teach you," he adds.

Harry smiles at that. At least all of his time won't be spent away from his father. He wants to spend as much time with him as he possibly can. He nods his agreement once more.

"We should get going. Councillor Byss is waiting for us," Mera says.

"Right," Arthur says. He grins at Harry. " _This_ ought to be interesting for you. You might have seen magic before, but I doubt you've ever seen anything like this."

 

* * *

 

Despite Harry's badgering, Arthur refuses to tell him what they're about to see. Mera had mentioned they were going to see Councillor Jurok Byss, who is the Master of Beasts, so Harry figures it obviously has something to do with these so called 'beasts'. After going back through the Drift Headquarters, they make their way back towards the entrance, but instead they follow the other path towards the home of the Beasts.

This cave tunnel opens up into a cavern far bigger than the Drift headquarters on the other side, and isn't separated by a magical barrier, thus remaining underwater. It certainly takes up most of the space inside the mountain. It's clear immediately why that's necessary.

The inside of the cave is like a giant aquarium, only the creatures swimming inside are unlike anything Harry has ever seen. Most of them are more animal than fish, and range from roughly human size up to the size of whales. Some have wing-like appendages, others large fins, and others are simply long like a snake except for the fact that they have legs. It's easy to see why they call them Beasts.

But Harry gets the feeling that they are called Beasts in appearance only. He can feel a sort of connection to the creatures, like a sixth sense, and it tells him that they're more intelligent than they appear.

"You feel that, right?" Arthur asks.

Harry guesses he's talking about the connection he can feel with them and nods slowly, gazing at the creatures in awe. "That's a part of your royal heritage, too," he says. "Those of us of the line of Atlan have a connection to what we call the Clear, or sometimes the Blue. It is a force that connects every living creature in the entire ocean together."

"It's incredible," Harry says. He's has felt like he belongs in Atlantis from the moment he arrived. Now he understands why. He is part of a connection to all life in the ocean, utterly in tune with the nature around him.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Arthur says, swimming further into the cave. "I want to introduce you to someone," he says over his shoulder.

Harry swims after him through the cave. It's even bigger than what he initially thought, and continues down and through a large tunnel that looks to lead to the outside of the mountain.

Arthur stops suddenly and lifts a hand to the side of his head. That same feeling Harry had when he had entered the cavern grows stronger, and he can somehow sense something approaching. He can't hear it or see it, but there's a part of him that can  _feel_ it approach. He doesn't have to wait long before finding out what it is. Climbing up through the water is a strange, octopus-like creature of gargantuan size. The biggest whale in the world would feel small in comparison. Harry feels like an ant.

"This is Topo, my Kraken," Arthur says.

The Kraken swims upwards so that it rests one of its large, boulder sized eyes on Harry.

"Topo and I have been together since he was just a baby, about the size of a horse," Arthur says, rubbing his hand soothingly along the Kraken's scales. The creature is so massive that Harry doubts it can even feel it.

"He likes you," Arthur says simply. "He knows you're my son."

"How can you tell?" Harry asks.

The Kraken slowly begins to return from where it had been, downwards and back through the massive tunnel that leads out of the mountain.

"Any beast master could tell you what their companion feels. They – we – raise them from when they're just babies. We train by their sides, fight by their sides and live by their sides as much as possible. We know more about them than anyone else," Arthur explains. "We're here to hopefully find  _you_ a beast to bond with."

"Me? A Kraken as well?" Harry asks. He doesn't know whether to be excited or alarmed. Topo is incredible, but it would be a lie to say he isn't slightly frightened of the beast.

"Not necessarily a Kraken… though I suppose it could happen. Let's find Jurok Byss and we'll find out," Arthur says, swimming back towards where Mera, Tula and Garth are waiting for them.

They swim down towards the ground floor of the enormous cavern, where Harry can see several men and women tending to beasts of different sizes. All of them wear red armor, robes or cloth, signifying them as beast masters. At the left side of the cavern floor is a small enclosure, like an underwater pen. Though it's dark in the cave, Harry's awakened Atlantean eyes can make out Jurok Byss floating in it's centre.

"About time you got 'ere," Jurok Byss huffs on their approach. "I don't got all day."

"Apologies, Byss," Arthur says, not sounding the least bit sorry. "I wanted to introduce the Prince to Topo." The Master of the Beasts grunts in response. Arthur raises an eyebrow at him. Harry wouldn't have called it an admonishing look exactly, but the Beast Master sighs, and his attitude changes instantly.

"Welcome, Young Prince," he says, inclining his head respectfully. "Has the King told you why yer 'ere?"

Harry nods uncertainly. The man is acting much gentler and softer after the 'look' that Arthur had given him, but if his attitude can change that quickly, Harry doesn't want to risk angering him.

"I have," Arthur additionally answers. "But I thought I would leave the bulk of the explanation to you."

Byss mutters something incomprehensible under his breath. "It's me job to keep the Beasts safe and strong, and to breed 'em and make sure they're well raised," he says simply.

"And to bond them with those that are compatible," Mera adds.

"Right," Byss admits gruffly.

"Bond them?" Harry asks. "How does that work?"

Jurok Byss' face lights up. "I've been around these creatures me 'ole life. There's not a soul across all the oceans that can match a beast to an Atlantean as well as me" he says. "Every beast is different, just as every person is different, and some beasts are more suited to certain people than they are to others."

"How can you tell which beast is suited to which person?" Harry asks.

Byss shakes his head. "I don't. It's the beasts who do. I just read the beasts."

 _The wand chooses the wizard, Harry._ Ollivander's words echo in his head. "It sounds like when I got my wand," Harry says, voicing the thought aloud.

The entire group looks at him quizzically. "Is that the stick your headmaster had? A wand?" Arthur asks.

"You don't have wands in Atlantis?" Harry asks with a frown. He knows wandless magic is possible, and he's even seen Dumbledore perform it before, but wanded magic is known to be far stronger and more reliable. "But how do you perform magic?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question," Mera admits.

"Well… its-" Harry starts, but in the end he's unsure of how to even describe it.

"Harry's headmaster used a stick to perform his magic. Perhaps it's like the foci we give our younglings," Arthur suggests.

"Our foci?" Mera questions. "Yes, perhaps. And I think I understand what you mean now, Harry. We give our young initiates a focus, an object built with magical properties to assist them with their magic. Depending on the magical materials used in their construction, foci perform differently for different people."

"Well, yes, that's it," Harry says. From the way Mera says it, she makes wands sound like they're just a tool to help the young control their magic.

_But then how do Atlanteans use magic?_

"My wand has a phoenix core. I tried many other wands before that, but none worked for me quite right," Harry says.

"In that case, you're right. Bonding with a beast is like tha'. I'll show you the young beasts I got now, and we'll see if you can match with 'em. I only have ten right now, but many more are pregnant and due soon," Byss says.

The large man looks back over his shoulder and calls out to one of his red armoured helpers. "Oi! Bring 'em over!" Harry sees one of them, a man, jump slightly at the Beast Master's command. He leans down low to the ground, and seems to say a few words. When he swims upwards and starts to move towards them, there are several creatures that swim up off the ground with him, none of them very large, the largest only about the size of a retriever.

"Like I told ya, we got ten right now," Byss says as the other man approaches with the young beasts.

Before Harry can really look closer at the small beasts, the man guiding them approaches him directly. He bows low, so low that it looks like it hurts. "It's such an honour to meet the new Prince, and to help assist him with choosing his Beast companion," the young man says eagerly. "I am so honoured," he repeats.

_This is so weird._

"Uhm… Thanks, I guess?" Harry says. There's a small choking noise from Tula, and Harry can see she's trying not to laugh at the man's over the top attitude. She stops at a slight glare from Mera, but the amused smile doesn't leave her face.

"All righ'," Byss says, waving the man away. "You've done ya duty. Off with ya."

The man bows deeply again several times and slowly swims away. "Bloody idiot," Byss murmurs.

As soon as he's gone, Harry can get a closer look at the beasts. None of them appear to be of the same species, and he wouldn't even begin to know the name of the species of any of them, except for one small, octopus looking creature.

"Is that another Kraken?" Harry asks curiously.

"Aye," Byss says.

"Much smaller than when I first met Topo," Arthur notes. "This one must be young indeed."

"Just born last week," Byss confirms. "Well go on then," he says to Harry. "Get a better look at 'im!"

Harry slowly floats closer to the small brownish creature. It wraps one of its small tentacles up his arm. Harry pets it's head. Its scales are hard and smooth, and yet if Harry were to press down, it would be almost squishy as well.

Byss begins shaking his head. "Nope. No' this one," he says.

"How can you tell? I thought he liked me" he says. He's not all that disappointed, just curious with how the process normally goes.

"It's not that he don't" Byss says. "But there's no bond. When it happens, I'll know, and yeh'll know, too."

Harry moves on to the next creature. It's a little like a horse, with four legs and flat webbed feet. Its body is long like a snake's. Byss shakes his head once again.

The next creature looks like a dinosaur out of a history museum. It has fin looking appendages down it's back, and four very strong looking legs and a tail. Once more, Byss doesn't think it's the right fit. Much to Harry's disappointment, none of the other seven creatures seem to bond with him either. They all seem to like Harry well enough, and let him pet them, but according to Byss, none are a good fit.

"We'll jus' have to wait for the next batch," Byss huffs, as if it's a major inconvenience to him.

Arthur must catch the look of disappointment and failure on Harry's face. "Don't worry about it too much. Bonding with a beast isn't always quick and easy," he says.

"How long did it take you to find Topo?" Harry asks.

The question looks like it makes his father uncomfortable. "Well… Topo was actually the first one I met. But there's no reason to worry, Byss will find you a good fit. Right?" Arthur turns to the Master of the Beasts.

Byss grunts what Harry assumes to be a yes. Arthur shakes his head slightly at the man.

"Anyway, we still have a lot to see today, so we should move on," Arthur says. The group bid their farewell to Byss and swim back towards the entrance.

"So Harry, what do you think of Atlantis so far?" Arthur asks, clearly trying to make him forget his disappointment about the beasts.

Harry looks up at his father as they swim. "It's incredible. A whole new world."


	8. Return to the Surface

**Chapter 8 - Return to the Surface**

 

"Wow," Harry breathes. "Then this is how we're getting Sirius to Atlantis?" In front of him is what he can only describe as a vehicle that looks like a spaceship. It doesn't seem to follow the design of any vehicle he's ever seen on the surface, and instead looks like some sort of alien design.

At the back end looks to be some sort of thrusters, only a little like the high-end air force jets. It's quite a bit larger than those planes though, instead having room inside for about ten people. The two doors on either side are the same magical barriers that are found all over Atlantis, and they glow a light blue. It's only tall enough for an average sized man to stand at his full height inside. It has no wings, looking more like a floating orb than a plane.

"Sure is," Arthur answers. "It's the only way we can get him down to the city safely. Even then he will have to be confined to the palace."

Harry nods uncertainly. After having spent so many years behind bars in Azkaban, Sirius isn't likely to be happy about that fact. He can't help but think it might have been a mistake to come up with the idea of him coming.

_But even limited freedom must be better for him than none at all, right? And he won't be on the run, or around any dementors…_

"You look conflicted," Arthur observes.

Harry shrugs. "I remember you telling Professor Dumbledore something along those lines. I didn't really think about what it meant until now though," he says uncertainly.

His father nods in understanding. "Well you had just gotten some pretty big news," he says. "But he doesn't  _have_ to come to Atlantis if he doesn't want to. We'll explain his situation to him, and then he can make an informed decision."

It makes Harry feel only very slightly better.  _It's not like he has much choice anyway. Come to Atlantis and be restricted to one building, or risk getting caught and thrown back in Azkaban. What kind of choice is that?_ For Sirius it really seems like a lose lose situation.

Harry sighs. "What if he says no? What about Professor Dumbledore? You told him that someone from the surface could come down here to keep an eye on me," Harry says, screwing up his nose at the thought of needing a babysitter from the surface. After seeing what Atlanteans are actually capable of, it's not like they would be able to do anything if something bad happened anyway.

"I'm not worried about  _his_ opinion. The only person whose opinion concerns me is  _yours,_ " Arthur says.

The corner of Harry's lip upturns. Of all the good things to happen in the last two days, one of the best is absolutely the idea that he's now got the freedom to  _choose._ It's a comforting thought to know that Arthur trusts him enough to let him make his own decisions, rather than forcing things on him like everyone else has done.

Mera walks into the room, which is a small hangar at the Headquarters of the Fleet, about half way down Mount Nysos. She's flanked by Garth and Tula. "We should get going if we want to meet your surface friends on time," she says.

"Of course," Arthur says, taking one step towards the ship before stopping. "Actually, on second thought, you three go ahead. I think Harry and I will swim."

"We will?" Harry asks, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Unless you don't want to?"

"No, I do," Harry responds quickly. He'd be stupid to say no. The ship looks exciting, but having free alone time with just his father? It's no choice at all. Arthur laughs softly to himself.

"Very well. We shall meet you on the surface," Mera says, stepping through the barrier and onto the ship. Once again, Tula and Garth step inside behind her.

After several moments, the ship powers on, and Harry is surprised at how quiet it is, most likely because it is powered by magic rather than any engine. The thrusters at the back glow blue as it floats into the air before shooting forward through a second barrier leading to the open ocean. It zooms off into the distance at tremendous speed.

"Won't they be waiting for us?" Harry asks.

Arthur laughs. "Fat chance," he says. "Let's go." He jumps forward through the same barrier the ship had just flown through, calling out for Harry to follow him.

Harry passes through the glowing barrier and into the ocean. They're still in the middle of the city, at Mount Nysos, but Arthur begins moving upwards, closer to the surface and above the main part of the city.

He's moving a lot faster than two days prior when Harry had first travelled to Atlantis, but Harry no longer needs him to slow down much. He's used to the feeling now, and he can push himself through the water with ease. He doubts he can move as fast as Arthur can at his absolute peak, at least not yet, but he's glad he can at least keep up a fast pace next to him. It takes them almost no time to leave the borders of the city, and they're once again swimming in the open water.

"It's so free out here, isn't it," Arthur says fondly.

Harry doesn't answer; and he doesn't have to answer. He can't imagine anyone would  _ever_  disagree with the statement. Even way out past the boundaries of the city, Harry can feel so much  _life_ around him. He knows now that it's his access to the Clear, and that he can actually feel all the life in the ocean, or at least all the life near him, but it makes him feel so  _connected_ , and so at home.

"So now that we're alone, how have you liked Atlantis so far? I hope we haven't overloaded you with too much information," Arthur asks with a slightly worried tone.

Harry shakes his head. "Not at all. Atlantis is amazing."

Arthur slows down and levels a serious eye towards him. "You can be honest. If anybody is going to understand what you're going through right now, it's me."

Harry lets out a deep breath. "It's… a lot," Harry admits. "But Atlantis  _is_  amazing. I think I'm still just still trying to process everything."

Arthur nods with understanding. "I get it. You've had to deal with more life-altering news in the past few days than most people get in their whole lives.  _And_  you're dealing with it really well, but if you ever want to talk to someone, I'm here for you," Arthur says, reaching out and clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Thanks," Harry says. He opens his mouth again, about to add something else, but thinks better of it and closes it again.

_I don't think I'm ready to call him Dad. Too weird._

"No problem," Arthur says, apparently not noticing his sudden reticence.

They continue on in silence for several minutes, but it's not awkward. Both of them are simply drinking in the feeling of the water and the incredible view around them. With his newly incredible eyesight, Harry can see all around him in the water, just as clear as he could on the surface. The bottom of the ocean is quite far below him, but he can still make out all the different life forms swimming and crawling around.

"Hey," Arthur eventually says, grabbing his attention. "Want to try something fun? I promise you'll like it."

Harry nods, noticing the excited look on his father's face. Not for the first time, Harry can see just how alike they are. There can't be any doubt that Arthur's his father.

"Follow me," he says. "But you have to try to mimic my movement and speed exactly, okay?"

Harry nods again, this time a little more uncertain. "I'll try."

Arthur speeds up immediately, and Harry does his best to match his burst of speed. Surprisingly, he can do it, but he can feel that it's pushing his limits. Before Atlantis, Harry never would have thought he would find something he likes more than flying on a broomstick, but swimming at this speed tops it easily. It barely even feels like they're swimming against any sort of resistance at all, and it actually feels like they're flying all on their own.

"This way!" Arthur calls out ahead of him, starting to swim slightly upwards, so that he's aimed to leave the water. Harry can see the glow of the surface's water from where the sun's light bounces off it.

Arthur breaches the surface at incredible speed and his body flies upward and out of sight. With a deep breath, Harry follows him only moments later, smashing through the top of the water and high up into the sky.

The view above is absolutely breathtaking. There's not a speck of land in sight, and the ocean spreads for miles around in every direction. He can feel the sun beating down on his wet skin as he still rises through the air, a testament to just how fast Harry and Arthur can actually move.

Just ahead of him, Harry sees Arthur falling quickly back into the water, which he enters with a graceful dive. Just days ago, the sight would frighten Harry, knowing that he's about to fall from such a massive height, but now it's just exciting. He laughs in absolute glee as he finally stops rising and begins to fall back towards the ocean. He copies Arthur's form and stretches out his arms, hitting the water again painlessly in his first ever dive. Harry's still laughing as he re-enters the water, and sees that his father has slowed down to wait for him.

"What did I tell you?" Arthur asks.

Harry couldn't wipe the smile from his face if he tried. He doesn't answer his father, just grins at him, aims back towards the surface of the water and shoots upwards into the sky once more.

 

* * *

 

"Match my speed as best you can," Arthur advises as he swims upwards towards the surface of the water.

After swimming for a little under an hour, the coast of Britain has finally come into view. Harry can see the rocky shore rising out of the water. Arthur slows down considerably before breaching the water, though they're still moving quite fast, just not in comparison to the high speeds they'd reached earlier. Arthur leaves the water, and this time Harry follows him at almost exactly the same time. They both rise and fall through the air together, though this time it's not going to be the water that they land in.

The land seems to rise to meet them, and Harry would be lying if he'd said he wasn't at least a little scared to hit the ground. Jumping and landing back in the water is one thing, but this feels entirely different. In his mind's eye, he can see himself splatting on the hard ground like a bug on a windshield.

What happens in reality is quite different. Both Arthur and Harry land on the ground painlessly, albeit with a loud smacking noise. They leave large cracks in the dirt underneath them.

"That is such a  _rush,"_ Harry breathes. Arthur laughs in response.

They're standing on a small cliff-side, where a small lighthouse overlooks the ocean. It reminds Harry of Arthur's quaint but very likable house in Amnesty Bay. He's got no idea what time it is, but he'd guess it's very close to midday.

"Wait, did we  _beat_ them here?" Harry asks, looking around for Mera and his two royal guard.

Arthur gives him a curious look. "Of course," he says. "You felt how fast we were swimming, right? You've made amazing progress in just a couple of days."

Harry blushes slightly at the compliment. "Well yes, but the… ship," Harry says, unsure of what to actually call the vehicle that they're traveling in "looked so  _fast."_ It's obvious that it means that Harry and Arthur are faster, but it's still hard to believe.

"That ship might be faster than the ordinary Atlantean, but you and I are far from ordinary," Arthur says.

Their conversation is cut off by a loud popping noise nearby. Over near the lighthouse door, appearing as if from nowhere, is Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Sirius Black. Sirius looks much healthier, and much cleaner than when Harry had last seen him. Dumbledore has a look of utter relief on his face.

 _He was probably worried we wouldn't show up._ Out of spite, Harry almost wishes that they hadn't. As soon as he sees the elderly man, all of his anger towards him for keeping his father a secret comes rushing back.

He looks disoriented for a moment, but when Sirius' eyes meet Harry's his face lights up with a smile and he takes several steps forward and outstretches his arms.

"Sirius," Harry says quietly to himself, stepping forward to give his godfather the hug he clearly wants.

Arthur grabs Harry's shoulder in a tight grip and holds him back. Harry scowls and turns to face his father, who's looking down on him with a serious expression.

 _Is he upset because I went to hug Sirius, and I haven't even hugged him yet?_ Harry feels immediately guilty. He's only known both of them for a very brief time, though he's spent more time with Arthur, and Arthur is his  _father._ Shouldn't he have hugged him by now?

"You can't," Arthur says. "Remember, you're much stronger now."

Understanding dawns on him. It had been just two days since Arthur had explained that a simple hug could kill if it was done with Harry's new and raw strength, and it had  _already_ slipped his mind. He hangs his head in shame.

"What's the big idea?" Sirius calls out in a huff. "I just wanted to give my godson a hug!" Arthur looks slightly apologetic as he lifts his gaze to Sirius.

"Sorry Sirius," Harry says. "It's not what you think. Arthur just saved your life."

Professor McGonagall steps forward, suddenly on full alert. "Is there danger?" she asks, slowly reaching for her wand.

Harry shakes his head, but it's Arthur who answers. "No, nothing like that. Harry's just not the same young man you remember," he says. He bends down and picks up a large stone from the ground and tosses it to his son.

Harry catches it on instinct. Arthur gives him a firm nod, and Harry nods back, turning to face the wizards. He holds the rock up in his hands for all of them to see and squeezes, hard. It grinds down to dust in his hand. It's not just Sirius, McGonagall and Dumbledore who look surprised at the display of strength. Harry too watches the dust spill from his hand and onto the ground with absolute awe.

 _How did I get_ _ **this**_ _strong without even feeling it?_ Arthur had said it would happen, but it's still going to be quite an adjustment to his new reality.

Nobody says anything for several seconds. The strongest any of them probably know physically is Hagrid, but there's no way he could have crushed that rock as much as Harry just did. Sirius' mouth had actually dropped open at the display.

Dumbledore recovers himself the fastest. "I see the changes begin right away," he comments. Harry ignores him.

"Took your Wheaties this morning, eh Harry?" Sirius eventually laughs. McGonagall clicks her tongue disapprovingly at the joke.

Harry smirks. "Sirius, this is my father, Arthur," he says. It sounds strange to hear himself say it out loud, but it sounds  _right_ at the same time. Arthur reaches out his hand to the man, but Sirius gives it a wary look. Harry can't really blame him for thinking twice, given what his godfather had just seen  _him_ do.

"Don't worry Sirius, Arthur can actually control  _his_ strength," he says.

Sirius hesitates for a moment more before reaching out and clasping Arthur's outstretched one. "So you're the famous Arthur. Lily would be glad that you and Harry have found each other," he says.

_I hope that's true._

Arthur inclines his head gratefully.

Harry gestures towards the Deputy Headmistress. "And this is Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore's right hand and my transfiguration teacher."

Professor McGonagall bows. "I am honored, King Orin," she says reverently.

Arthur nods his head once more. "It's a pleasure," he says.

Professor McGonagall turns to Harry next. "Well don't you look the part of the young Prince," she says, eyeing him up and down.

Harry looks down at his golden scale armor and shrugs with one shoulder. "I guess so," he answers, embarrassed. He's glad she's not suddenly acting formal with him like with Arthur. Harry doesn't even know what to do with the idea that the ever-stern McGonagall might have reasons to be walking on eggshells around him.

When he looks back up, its to three faces of complete amazement. Sirius, McGonagall and Dumbledore are all now looking past Harry and Arthur, and out towards the open sea. He turns around to see the Atlantean ship flying through the sky towards them. There's not much room near the lighthouse, so the ship flies past them and further up the coast. It lands softly on the ground. A few moments later, Mera steps out, flanked still by Tula and Garth. McGonagall lets out a stunned gasp when the three simply leap over the small gap between the cliffs to reach them.

They're still a good twenty metres away when Sirius starts to whisper, nudging Harry in the side with an elbow. "Oh I get it. Your dad has a thing for red-heads," he says cheekily.

Even from this distance, Harry sees the brief look of annoyance cross Mera's face.

 _He did_ _ **not**_ _just say that._ At any other time, Harry might have laughed, but he knows something that Sirius doesn't.

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sirius," he says. "Atlanteans have much better hearing than you do."

The color drains from his godfather's face. "Really?" he asks, clearly hoping that Harry's just playing a cruel joke on him.

Arthur answers for him, and he's already walked far enough over to the approaching Mera that he shouldn't have heard the joke either, not if he wasn't Atlantean. "Yes," he says, looking over his shoulder. He keeps his face neutral, and Harry can't tell if he's annoyed or not.

McGonagall whips out her wand and swishes it through the air, summoning a thick bundle of socks in her other hand. She offers them to Sirius. "For your big mouth," she says. Sirius looks like he wants to run away and hide, and Harry can hardly blame him. He must know that that's a Queen he might have just offended.

Arthur embraces his wife and guides her over. "This is my Queen, Mera," he introduces.

Dumbledore and McGonagall both bow low. "Your highness," they say in unison. It doesn't skip Harry's attention how formal the two of them are, more so than he has ever seen them be before.

_Maybe it's just because they're royalty and they don't want to offend them?_

Sirius goes one step further. He gets down onto his knees. "I apologize for any offense I might have given," he says, looking down at the ground.

 _Even Sirius?_ Harry hadn't know him long, and would be the first to admit he doesn't know a lot about him, but he had been given the distinct impression that Sirius was a huge prankster, and not the type to get upset over offending one person, regardless of their title.

Mera's look softens very slightly. "No harm done. It is perhaps true, after all," she says. Arthur looks purposefully away.

 _This is not a great start._ Despite Mera not appearing overly angry about the remark, its hardly the smooth introduction that Harry had been hoping for. Sirius slowly gets back to his feet, but he looks deeply ashamed.

_Why is he so upset?_

The silence the follows is long and awkward as the two groups inspect each other. Harry can hear the waves crash against the cliffs in the background. More than anything right now, he longs to jump back into the water.

If wizards look odd compared to muggles, then the four Atlanteans look utterly alien when they're on the surface. Not so much for Arthur, but for Mera, Tula and Garth, there's just something about them that makes them feel out of place, perhaps because they themselves likely feel out of place.

 _No, Five Atlanteans._ Harry looks down at his golden scale. He's currently standing with Sirius and the Hogwarts Professors, but now he feels like he should be standing with the other Atlanteans. Where he's currently standing isn't a statement of loyalty by any means, but suddenly it feels wrong. Both sides are inspecting the other, and Harry's definitely standing on the wrong side. He tries to move inconspicuously closer to the Atlanteans, but he sees Dumbledore carefully watching him move.

 _Good._ Whether true or not, if it makes Dumbledore think Harry feels more loyalty to Atlantis than Wizarding Britain, then he's glad he moved.

"Well," Dumbledore eventually says, breaking the silence. "Shall we get down to business?"

"Harry," Arthur addresses his son directly. "Do you actually  _want_ to return to Hogwarts?"

Harry looks up at him with wide eyes. It's still such a breath of fresh air to actually be given a choice in what he wants to do. Unfortunately, it's not exactly a simple question to answer, even more so in Harry's current emotional state. Harry glares at the headmaster for forcing the issue. Instead of letting him make the decision in his own time, he just  _had_  to ask when Harry was returning to the surface for his fourth year at Hogwarts.

"I don't know," he says through ground teeth, eyes still seething towards the headmaster. Dumbledore doesn't look overly worried about Harry's anger.

_He doesn't care about me. He just wants to make sure there's someone to fight Voldemort._

In truth, Harry absolutely does want to return to Hogwarts, but it isn't so simple anymore. Hogwarts has been home for him, a safe haven. But he has another home now, and another haven. He has friends at Hogwarts, but he has family in Atlantis. It's a complicated decision. Even if he does return to Hogwarts, he's not sure he would want to do it for an entire term, not sure that he even  _could_ spend that much time away from Atlantis, not now that he's been there. More than that, on the surface, Harry is the boy-who-lived, which is in the end a meaningless title. In Atlantis, he is the sole Prince and heir, and he has a responsibility to his nation, no matter how little he knows about it.

"But you  _must_ return to Hogwarts," Dumbledore says. "What about your friends? Mr Weasley and Miss Granger would undoubtably miss-"

Dumbledore's attempt to change Harry's mind is cut off when Arthur steps between the two. "Don't you dare attempt to influence his decision. Harry is more than capable of making up his own mind."

Dumbledore remains silent for several moments, trying to decide what to say. "I mean no offense when I say this, King Orin, but I know Harry far better than you. You might be his father, but you have only known him for two days. I have been looking out for his well-being since he was just a baby."

 _I don't even think that's true. Arthur probably knows more about me now, at least the things that matter._ Harry crosses his arms, but he stays silent.

Arthur's nostrils flare dangerously. "And yet," he says slowly. "You seem quite content to make major life decisions for him? Without even consulting him?"

Dumbledore tries to remain calm, but he begins to look desperate. "You can't just-" He's cut off by Arthur a second time.

"I am a  _ **King**_ _,"_ Arthur practically shouts. "And he is  _my_ son and the Prince of Atlantis. You no longer make decisions for him."

The two continue to argue, while Mera supports her husband with her presence by his side. Harry can't help but notice that McGonagall and Sirius are content to stay out of the argument, not trying to back up the headmaster in the slightest. He's actually surprised by his Transfiguration teacher. He would have expected her to support every word the headmaster says, but the look on her face is uncertain, like she's unsure of whether she actually agrees with him.

Harry stops listening as he feels something skirting the edge of his consciousness. It's a feeling he can't really explain with words, but whatever is distracting him is definitely coming from the direction of the ocean. He focuses closer on the feeling, trying to focus his mind on the unfamiliar presence. It's like feeling emotion, he realizes, and he can feel overwhelming fear mixed with a ravenous hunger. The emotions are distinctively not his own, however.

_It must be the Clear._

Arthur and Dumbledore still argue nearby.

"What is that?" Harry asks loudly, cutting their argument short. He gazes out towards the ocean.

"My Prince?" Garth asks, sounding genuinely worried.

Arthur's gaze lifts out to the sea as well. He's silent for a few moments. It's obvious that Arthur can feel what Harry feels.

Arthur sticks his hand out to the side and summons the Trident of Neptune. "We're in danger," he says urgently. He turns to Garth and Tula. "Get Harry out of here. Keep him  _safe,"_ he orders.

"What's going on?" McGonagall asks, her wand now in hand.

Arthur shakes his head. "Something approaches. I don't know what. The survival instincts of the fish out there are in full effect. Whatever approaches is no friend to us."

Arthur turns to the Hogwarts Professors, and Sirius. "You should get out of here, to safety," he says.

Harry feels their presence before he sees them. It's a ravenous hunger in his head, the kind that feels like it will never be sated. When he looks up, its to meet the eyes of a monster. It's humanoid, and it's skin is translucent, like you see on some fish, with the bones visible underneath. It has large rows of teeth and it's brain is visible under even clearer skin. It has large, black eyes.

The creature lunges towards Arthur, only to be felled immediately by a swing of his Trident. "It's not alone," Arthur says, turning to face them. "Go!"

Harry's glad that they visited the Silent School the previous day in Atlantis. Arthur had shown him how to banish and summon the Trident of Poseidon at will. He reaches out as his father had and his own Trident appears in his hand. He'd rather stay and fight such monsters, but Garth is already at his side, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him further inland. Tula walks backwards in front of him, prepared to defend him with her life. She wields a sword and a large shield.

"Come, My Prince, it isn't safe!" Garth pleads, still pulling Harry who struggles in his grip. Sirius joins Tula in front of Harry, wand held out in front of him. Ahead of them, Dumbledore and McGonagall are firing spells at more of the creatures climbing over the edge of the cliff. Their spells seem to have very little effect.

Surprisingly, Mera is the most visible. She glows with an almost ethereal white mist and water whips around her in forceful streams. The water strikes at the creatures and somehow cuts straight through their flesh.

"I can help!" Harry pries Garth's hand off his shoulder, but he's blocked by Tula before he can get away completely.

"We have to protect you!" Tula says forcefully, shoving him back towards Garth. Garth begins pulling him back again.

Before he can argue any further, there's a scream from further down the coast that pulls his attention. The monstrous fish-creatures are climbing over the cliff there, too, and Harry can see a woman desperately clutching the child in her arms and trying to run. She's about two hundred metres away from them, but with his newly awakened Atlantean eyes, Harry can make out every detail, right down to the terror in her eyes.

_I have to save her._

"Protect me  _over there,"_ Harry says. Neither Tula, Garth or Sirius can stop him before he crouches low and jumps over towards the woman.

There's no time to revel in the power of his jump. He makes it to her in one massive leap, his Trident aimed downward towards the ground. The point of the Trident lands directly onto one of the creatures, impaling it deep into the ground. Harry pulls the Trident out of the ground easily, despite how deep it had impacted. He levels it towards the other creatures.

 _One down. Too many to go._ The creatures are terrifying as they stare at him, snapping their sharp teeth together and making a myriad of screeching and growling noises. He knows he has to hold his ground. If he runs, the woman and her child will undoubtedly be killed. Harry doesn't look towards her when he calls out for to her run. He can't see her, but he does  _hear_ her run further inland, away from the creatures who have instead drawn their attention onto him.

There's probably about ten, or fifteen, grouped up in front of him. There's a thick sort of liquid dripping from their mouth, but it doesn't look very much like ordinary saliva. They charge towards him at once, little more than a group of mindless, ferocious animals. Harry has to ignore the ravenous hunger he can feel emanating from them and focus his mind on the task at hand. He can't let the connection distract him.

He thrusts his Trident forward. The sharp prongs slice into the first one's stomach. Before he can do anything else though, the second one is jumping at him and knocking him onto his back.

Harry puts his hand up to hold it back, but the creature is strong, and it clamps down on his wrist with it's teeth. Harry yells out in pain as the teeth sink into even  _his_ hardened flesh. Hot red blood begins to spill down his arm from the open wound.

Harry punches with his free hand, and hears the neck of the creature snap backwards. It falls limply on top of him. His eyes widen as the rest of the creatures appear in front of him, still charging forward like a ravenous horde. He pushes the creature off him and tries to climb to his feet, but he knows he's not going to be fast enough to be ready before the rest are on him.

"Tula!" Harry hears Garth call out nearby. Suddenly she's there in front of him, her brown hair swinging from underneath her helmet as she swings a massive sword through the creatures, slicing through them as easily as hot butter.

Garth lands on the ground at Harry's side after clearly having jumped himself. He puts one hand over Harry's injured wrist, and another under it. The space around Harry's injury begins to glow gold with the boy's magic.

Tula dispatches the last of the creatures with a downward swing of her huge sword. It's at least as large as she is herself. She banishes it in a splash of water.

 _She took down the entire group in just a few seconds, and I was injured just trying to get two of them._ Harry's distracted from his self-pity when he feels his broken skin begin to sow itself back together under Garth's magic.

"That was brave of you," he says. "But it was  _stupidly_  brave."

Tula takes off her helmet and swings her head, letting her hair wave around behind her. It's the first proper look Harry's had of her face. She's very pretty, with unblemished dark skin and deep purple eyes. He's never seen such a color in a person's eyes. She looks down at him wordlessly, but her expression is half way between admiration and disappointment, and is somehow both at the same time.

"That's the best I can do for now. One of the healing Magisters in Poseidonis can do more," Garth says, helping Harry to his feet.

"Thank-you," Harry says gratefully. He makes a fist and releases it several times, surprised at how quickly Garth had been able to take away the pain. There are still a few marks where the creatures' teeth had punctured his skin, but it's no longer bleeding.

Garth nods his head. "I can't say I ever expected to need to use healing magic on just the second day into your service."

Harry shrugs. "Trouble seems to follow me."

Tula lets out a short laugh. "Are you sure you don't just  _jump_ into trouble?" She asks.

Harry blushes slightly. He'd love to be able to tell her that she's wrong, but logically he can't deny it. Not after what he'd just done. Harry feels the last of the ravenous hunger dissipate in his mind, and looks over towards the lighthouse to see Arthur fell the final creature with a swing of his Trident.

"What the hell  _were_ they?" Harry asks. He's relieved to see that back at the lighthouse, everyone seems to be uninjured.

Tula shakes her head. "I don't know. They're not something I've ever seen before," she says, nudging the body of one of the creatures with her foot in examination.

"I think I might know," Garth says. "I just hope I'm wrong." He shakes his head when Harry tries to ask what he means. "We should return to the King and Queen."

They jump back across the gap between the cliffs, though Harry can't help but notice it seems to cost more energy for Garth and Tula to do it than it does Harry.

_I guess I am stronger. But it's just been proven that stronger does not equal superior._

When Harry approaches them, it's to find Arthur and Professor Dumbledore arguing once again. "You  _assured_ me that Harry would be safe!" Dumbledore argues loudly. To Harry, it seems out of character for the elderly man to be showing so much emotion. Whenever Harry has seen him, he's always been overwhelmingly calm, seemingly infallible.

And yet he's not all that surprised. Dumbledore has always seemed to have a plan in everything. Even with all the bad that had happened at Hogwarts over the past three years, Dumbledore had never acted too surprised, and Harry has always suspected that at least some of it fell into some much larger plan that Dumbledore has. But Harry going to Atlantis, and then the subsequent attack on them they'd just had couldn't possibly have been a part of it. It must be frustrating for the man to have his well-laid out plans thrown into chaos.

"Perhaps it is best that Harry return to the safety of Hogwarts for the rest of the summer," Dumbledore suggests, returning at least some of the calm to his tone.

Arthur's jaw clenches and he squares his shoulders. He doesn't respond though, instead turning to Harry. "Are you okay?" he asks, still sounding tense from his argument with Dumbledore.

Harry nods and moves closer to him. When he's close enough, Arthur reaches out and tenderly grabs Harry's wrist. He raises it in front of his own eyes, examining the mostly healed wound underneath the broken scale armor.

"What happened?" he asks, looking past Harry to Garth and Tula.

"It was my fault," Harry says quickly, not wanting any blame to fall on his two guards for something that he did. "There was a woman across the cliff getting chased by those…  _things_. I jumped ahead to try and stop them."

Arthur locks eyes with his son, but Harry can't read his expression. He eventually sighs. "I guess I can't expect you not to do what I  _would_ do," he says. "But please, can you wait until you've trained more before doing something like that again?"

The corner of Harry's mouth twitches upwards. "I'll try."

As soon as the two of them have finished their exchange, Dumbledore continues his arguments. "Those creatures came from the sea, so what assurances do I have that Harry will be safe from them in Atlantis?"

Harry's heard enough. He's sick of the elderly man treating him like he's invisible.

"STOP IT!" he yells at the headmaster. "Arthur doesn't owe you any damn assurances! You are  _not_ my guardian. I don't  _need_  your protection!"

"I just want to make sure you're safe," Dumbledore tells him calmly, finally addressing Harry directly.

Harry shakes his head. "Since when has my safety ever been a priority? Of all the danger I've faced in my life, this is the first time it  _hasn't_ been at Hogwarts. What assurances can you give my  _father_ that I will be safe there?" Harry counters.

Dumbledore's face contorts as he realizes he's basically already lost the argument.

"You can't mean to say that you have no interest in returning?" Dumbledore asks, a little color leaving his face at the mere idea of it. His reaction only proves to Harry what he already knows. Dumbledore doesn't actually care about Harry's returning for his sake, only for the sake of all of his well-laid plans playing out as he wants them to.

"I'm not saying that. But let's not pretend you want me to return for anything other than you regaining some control," Harry says.

He stares down his headmaster as the rest of the group looks on in silence. When Dumbledore says nothing, Harry sighs.

"We're done here. I'm returning to Atlantis. If I decide to return to Hogwarts I'll be at King's Cross on the first of September with everyone else," he says.

He turns to Sirius. "Dumbledore wanted someone to keep an eye on me in Atlantis, but I no longer need someone to fill that role." Sirius' face drops in disappointment. "All the same, do you still want to come?" Sirius face brightens back up and he nods.

Harry turns back to his father, and stops briefly at the pleased look on his face. "Shall we leave, then?" he eventually asks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes
> 
> Ha! Look at me updating within a week! Incidentally, it's also the longest chapter I've written.
> 
> I feel like this is also a good opportunity to say that wizards cannot apparate in this fic. There are so many situations in fics where I'm always just like … but they can apparate away. Teleportation is really OP, and it will also take away from how unique some DC Characters are that can use it. Like Cyborg's boom tubes and Raven's portals.
> 
> If you're now wondering how Dumbledore and the others got to the lighthouse, they used a portkey. I feel like Portkeys are different from apparition because they have to be planned, and can't just be created on the spot whenever needed. At the very least not in the heat of battle.
> 
> Anyway, Hope you enjoy!


	9. Doubt

**Chapter 9 - Doubt**

**ATTENTION - This chapter has already been posted. I've done some rewrites throughout the entire fic, just making it sound better and such, no real additions or anything, but I ended up splitting a chapter into two. Sorry if you've already read this. But good news is that the next chapter will be up either tomorrow or the next day at the latest. It's written, I just need to edit it. Thanks!**

"Focus, Harry!"

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. Not in three years at Hogwarts has he found magic to be so physically demanding. He hadn't even know that it  _could_ be.

"Feel the magic course through you," Garth advises soothingly. "Push it out of your core and throughout your entire body."

_I'm trying._

It's easier said than done. After years of working with what the Atlanteans refer to as a focus, but what he's always called a wand, it's strange to be learning to perform magic without one. It's like his magic knows that something is missing. According to Garth, it's because it's begun to use the wand as something like a crutch. But Garth had told him it would be difficult when they'd first started on magic two weeks ago. If he was learning magic for the first time then it would be probably be less strenuous, but Harry's magic, he's told, is used to moving only through his wand arm. He's essentially trying to 'teach' his magic to run through his entire body. Evidently, his magic is  _stubborn_.

Harry lets out a breath and releases the tension, breaking his focus. While he's managed to get enough magic flowing through him to wandlessly power some of the weaker spells he knows, it's very clear that he's not nearly at the standard that Garth would like.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Harry complains.

Garth shakes his head, patient and calm teacher as always. "You're not doing  _anything_ wrong. Your body is just used to using your magic in a different way. Three years of practicing magic with a focus isn't going to disappear in just a few sessions."

Harry frowns. "Be honest with me though... You were hoping I'd have a better grasp by now, right?"

Garth hesitates, but Harry steels his look. Prince or not, he wants the truth.

"I - yes," he admits. "But don't be disheartened! Everyone learns at a different rate, and you  _are_ making progress."

_I thought so._ He can't help but be a little disappointed, even if he'd known deep down what Garth would say.

"Try your summoning spell again," Garth suggests.

With a sigh, Harry tries running the magic through his body again. He can feel the power of it in his very veins, but he knows it's just a small part. It's like a crack in a dam, only a small part sneaking through. He feels the crack get bigger with every session, but no matter how much he tries, he can't break the dam completely.

Harry can feel the incantation on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't speak it aloud. "No words," Garth says firmly, somehow able to tell. " _Will_ it."

And that's just another reason Harry is struggling. At Hogwarts, non-verbal spells aren't taught until the beginning of sixth year, and even then, not like the way Garth is trying to teach him. According to his new teacher, the incantations are just a tool meant to focus the mind on that spell alone, and don't actually have any power on their own. At first he'd struggled to believe it, but just a few days ago he'd managed a wandless light charm without actually thinking or saying 'lumos,' so clearly there's  _some_  truth to it.

_Doesn't make it any easier, though._ If anything, it's much, much harder. Garth has him trying very advanced magic, at least by Hogwarts standards, but in Atlantis, they're apparently just the basics.

Harry reaches out with a hand. The book he's trying to summon wobbles up onto it's side and then stops, stubbornly refusing to move any further. Once more, he lets go of the magic. He sighs heavily and drops his head.

"Not enough magic," a new voice says from behind him. Mera walks into the room, clearly having seen Harry's failed attempt at the summoning charm. Before Harry can answer, she's looking to Garth. "No improvement?" she asks her apprentice.

Garth shakes his head solemnly, offering Harry a semi-comforting smile as he does.

"Try again, Harry," Mera prompts, watching him intently.

_Pressure's on._ While she's perfectly nice to him, there's nothing particularly warm about the relationship he shares with his father's wife. He wants nothing more than to impress her. She may not be his mother by birth, but he's been lucky enough to gain a father in his life, it's hard to imagine anything that could be better than gaining a mother, too.

Harry focuses again, trying to push ever more magic out of his core. Like always though, all he can manage is an unsteady stream, diminishing slowly as it moves through his body. This time when he tries the charm, the book doesn't move at all.

_Very impressive, Harry._

"Interesting…" Mera notes. She turns to Garth. "I have an idea that may help. Garth, perhaps you should show him  _your_ magical pathway."

Garth looks surprised for a moment. "You mean…" he starts to ask, but Mera's already nodding. "Alright."

Garth reaches up to his shoulder and removes his left pauldron, quickly followed by his right. He slowly places them onto the ground before reaching down to the hem of his scale shirt and lifting upwards and over his head.

_Holy crap._

Fourteen years old though he may be, his body doesn't look it. Taut muscle stretches across his abdomen and chest. Garth's focus isn't even on martial prowess, but seeing him now, Harry wouldn't look forward to meeting him in a physical confrontation. For the first time, Harry can almost fully see Garth's tattoos. They travel all the way up his arms and branch off at the top of the shoulders, leading down his back and chest. The ones on his chest meet in the middle in his stomach, where they finish in a swirl pattern.

"Don't use your usual method," Mera tells Garth. "Try instead a gentle approach. Instead of  _pushing_ the magic,  _guide_ it out of your core."

Garth nods, apparently understanding clearly what is very much lost on Harry.

"Watch Garth," Mera instructs.

Garth closes his eyes and lets out a breath. Harry eyes widen as the tattoo on his stomach, beginning with the swirl pattern, slowly begin to glow a blinding white.

"You see that?" Mera asks Harry. "That is the location of the magical core, the source of magic in the body."

Harry nods. Slowly, the glowing white continues up the tattoos, moving slowly up the thick, black ink towards his shoulders.

"It's not a  _perfect_ representation, but the tattoos are drawn as closely to the magical pathways as possible. Generally speaking, magic follows the same path no matter the person." Her message is clear.  _'This is where you should be pushing your magic.'_

Mera gives Garth a firm nod. Not so slow anymore, the rest of his tattoo lights up, blindingly powerful. He turns around so Harry can see the path it takes down his back, two glowing strips of white that travel down the length of his equally muscular back and underneath the band of his pants.

"Why do they glow like that?" Harry asks.

Mera's eyebrow lifts in question before understanding seems to dawn on her face. "It's easy to forget that you wouldn't know such things about our culture," she says. "The tattoos are given to those with exemplary magical power. In the simplest terms, they extend the magical pathway right to the surface of the skin, allowing greater magical output."

Harry frowns slightly. "So Garth's magic is stronger because of the tattoos?"

Mera shakes her head once. "Garth's magic is powerful on it's own. The tattoos allow him to access it  _fully._ They mark him as a channeler, the highest rank any magic user can achieve in our culture."

"A channeler?" Harry asks, having never heard the term before, even in his classes with Vulko.

Mera nods. "Just like no two people are the same, no two people have the same magic, either. There is always something special, a special property deep in the blood of anyone with magic. A type of power that only their magic possesses, outside of the usual range of spells and enchantments."

Mera reaches down to the cuff of her left sleeve and pulls it back so Harry can see her forearm. Though she doesn't have visible tattoos like Garth, patterns of her skin begin to glow in the same rough shape as Garth's.

_Some sort of invisible ink?_

"For example," she says. She flattens out her hand, and Harry watches amazed as a steady stream of water erupts out of her palm. It quickly molds itself into a clear, slightly curved sword. She wraps her hand around it's hilt.

"My magic allows me to create hard water constructs," she continues.

She swings the swords through the air as smoothly as if it was a real, weighted weapon. With a flick of her wrist it flies through the air and embeds into the wall before losing it's form and splashing down into a puddle on the floor. "It also allows me to control any existing water in my immediate vicinity," she adds.

"And my magic gives me control over temperature," Garth adds.

_I wonder what my magic does?_

"Could I become a channeler?"

Mera arches an eyebrow again. "Possibly, but if I'm honest, it isn't likely. Having magic strong enough to become a channeler is exceedingly rare, even amongst Atlantean royalty. Even Arthur's magic isn't powerful enough. In any case, until you have far better control over your magic, it's impossible to determine."

Mera steps over to his side. "Why don't you try summoning that book to you again?"

Harry nods slowly and tries to focus.

Mera places a hand softly over his abdomen. "Remember, your magic starts here. Don't force it - guide it."

Harry nods again. More slowly and carefully than before, he pools the magic in his core and slowly guides it upward, picturing the path that Garth's magic had taken. It still feels like a crack in the dam, but this time it feels like he's got a more consistent amount of magic flowing through.

As soon as he's comfortable with the amount of magic coursing through his body, he tries the summoning charm again. This time, the book flies towards his open hand without hesitation, hitting his palm with a dull thud.

"Much, much better," Mera comments.

A wide grin breaks onto Harry's face. "Thank you," he says gratefully.

Mera smiles before turning back towards the door. "What's family for?"

 

* * *

 

Harry finds Sirius in much the same place as he's been for the past two weeks, the Library in the Royal Palace.

"You know, Remus told me last year that of all the Marauders,  _he_ was the one most likely to have his head stuck in a book, yet here you are again," Harry jokes as he steps inside and takes a seat across from his godfather.

Sirius smiles and slaps the heavy book shut. "True, he was always the nerd."

Harry raises and eyebrow and flicks his eyes towards the book in Sirius' lap.

"But this is Atlantis!" Sirius argues with a grin. "If I read every book in this library, it  _still_ won't be enough."

Harry's eyebrow remains raised. "Why so fascinated with Atlantis? I mean,  _I_ love it, but I can actually go outside and into the city. I  _am_ Atlantean. I thought you'd feel like a prisoner." Sirius' eyes go wide, as if what Harry said is the most ludicrous thing he's ever heard.

"Harry, before you came here and found out the truth, what did you actually know about Atlantis?"

Harry shrugs. "Just that it sank thousands of years ago."

Sirius shakes his head with an amused smile. "I shouldn't be surprised, what with you not being raised in the wizarding world."

_What's he talking about?_

"For wizards up on the surface, Atlantis is more than just some place _._  It's like our  _Heaven._ It's the birthplace of magic for crying out loud! Even if I didn't believe most of the pureblood drivel my family preached, there's not a child raised in a magical family that doesn't utterly  _revere_ the thought of Atlantis, and that includes me. How can I feel like a prisoner? I'm the first surface wizard not of Atlantean blood to be allowed down here in  _thousands_  of years."

_Like Heaven?_

"Wow, I had no idea," Harry admits.

"If you went back to Hogwarts and proved your lineage, you'd be the most famous wizard alive, without question."

Harry screws up his nose. "I'm more famous than I want to be already, thanks."

"I know, I'm just trying to tell you how big a deal it is that Atlantis still  _exists,"_ Sirius stresses. "And an even bigger deal that you're not just Atlantean, but you're  _royalty._ The future King no less."

Harry rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm still just Harry, too."

Sirius grips his shoulder. "To me, you'll always just be Harry Potter, my godson."

_Potter._ He's never really been Potter. A stolen name for a life lived a lie. Harry rises to his feet and turns away. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you. Something about my mother."

"What is it?"

Harry hesitates. He's not sure if he really wants to hear the answer. In his mind, his mother has always been perfect, and he's not sure he's ready to potentially tarnish that image of her. "When my mother and father met…" he begins uncertainly. "Were they… I mean, was she…"

"She and James weren't together yet," Sirius answers for him without Harry needing to spell it out. "She wasn't like that. They got together maybe a month after she met your father, and she was already pregnant."

Harry lets out a breath of relief.

"Been worrying you?" Sirius guesses.

Harry nods slowly. "I just didn't like the idea of my mother doing that to… him." He doesn't even know what word to use in regards to James now.

Sirius suddenly looks quite sad. "She loved you more than anything, you know. James did, too." Sirius cuts off for a moment, not really knowing what to say. "I know it must be confusing to think about, but James was just as much your father. He loved you as his son. He even-" Sirius cuts off abruptly.

_Gave his life for mine._ Harry feels another pang of guilt.

They sit in silence for several minutes. Not uncomfortably, more like they're both lost in their own thoughts. The silence is broken when Orm steps into the library.

"Nephew, it's good to see you," he says happily. He turns to Sirius. "Surfacer," he adds in a sort of greeting.

"Hi, Uncle," Harry greets in return, using the title that Orm has many times insisted that he use. "You've met Sirius?"

Orm nods. "Oh yes. We've talked almost every day since his arrival."

"Really? Dad-  _Arthur_ ," Harry corrects himself, feeling awkward, "said that most Atlanteans wouldn't be interested in talking to him." Harry looks towards Sirius apologetically.

Sirius simply shrugs. Arthur had warned  _him_  about it too, after all.

"Well, he's right about that. I guess I'm not most Atlanteans," Orm answers simply.

"Prince Orm and I have an understanding. I answer questions he has about the surface, and he helps  _me_  understand Atlantis," Sirius adds.

"You're interested in the surface?" Harry asks. Again, according to what Arthur had said, it's a surprising development.

Orm's face contorts as if a bad smell had suddenly wafted into the room. "Gods, no. I'm just interested in the retention of magic on the surface after Atlantis sunk beneath the waves," he replies.

_Oh._ From his reaction to the thought of the surface, Orm's as wary of it as Arthur had told him that most Atlanteans are. If there's one thing above all others that his father wants to accomplish as King, it's changing the hearts and minds of his people about life on the surface.

"Though like I tell him every day, magic on the surface is vastly inferior to the magic practiced here," Sirius says. "At least as far as I can see."

_Thats an understatement._ Harry can't help but think back to Mera's impressive display of channeler magic.

"I never said otherwise," Orm says proudly, as if he would never even imagine anything different. "But everything you've told me leads me to believe that the blood of old Atlantis still sings within some people on the surface. That's significant."

"The blood of old Atlantis?" Harry asks. "You mean from before Atlantis sunk?"

Orm nods. "Atlantis is the source of the world's magic.  _Every_ Atlantean is born with it, though not all choose to learn how to wield it. If some surfacers are born with the ability, then logically their ancestors must have been from Old Atlantis."

_Stands to reason._

"It gives me at least  _some_  hope for the surface world," Orm continues.

Harry refrains from rolling his eyes. It sounds too much like the pureblood vs muggleborn argument for his liking. "You should really visit the surface, you know," Harry suggests. "It's not always perfect, but it's not so bad as you seem to think."

Orm blinks at him, then gives him a wry grin. "Genetics is a funny thing," he comments with a slight shake of his head.

_What?_

"You've only known your father for a number of weeks, yet suddenly I feel like I'm sitting here talking to him instead of you. More than that, every time I talk to him it's like talking to  _Mother_  again. You really are just like them."

Harry looks down, trying to hide his smile.

Orm stands. "But I've got alot to do, so I'll take my leave." Without another word, he leaves the library.

"Me too. I'm going out with Da-  _Arthur,"_ Harry corrects himself again. "See you at dinner?" Sirius nods and waves goodbye, burying himself once again in the thick tome on his lap.

 

* * *

 

"Mera tells me your magic is progressing quite well," Arthur says as they zoom through the water back towards Poseidonis. "And Tula is more than impressed with your growing skill in close quarters combat."

"Really? Because Tula seems to enjoy getting me on my back." Harry quips. Arthur raises an amused eyebrow, and Harry flushes as he realizes the implications of what he'd said. "That came out wrong," he adds quickly.

Arthur laughs. "I know what you mean though. Commander Murk was my trainer, though he didn't bear the title back then. I spent more time eating floor in the early days than I did putting up a decent fight. Don't worry, it won't be long before you're the one knocking  _her_  on her ass."

"It's so weird sparring with her though. I can  _feel_ myself being faster and stronger than she is, but still I can't manage to get a decent hit in," Harry says, recalling many frustrating fights with his trainer. "A glancing blow maybe, but never anything decisive."

Arthur nods. "There  _is_ a reason she was picked as your guard and trainer," he says. "She might be young, but she's one of our most skilled soldiers, even amongst the Drift."

_I'd still feel better if I could get a hit in._

Arthur slows down to look him in the eye. "You don't need to put so much  _pressure_ on yourself," he says. "I know we made a big deal about needing to train you quickly, but don't push yourself too hard. You don't need to prove yourself to me."

_But what about the rest of Atlantis?_

Arthur's spot on with his observation. More and more Harry has been feeling the need to be better. It's not a feeling he's all that accustomed to, at least before Atlantis, but every day the reality sets in that he's now the Prince of an entire  _nation._ It's mostly his lessons with Vulko that add the pressure. The more he learns about his culture and his Kingdom, the more he feels the need to prove himself. With numerous settlements across the entire globe, Atlantis is populated by tens of millions, if not hundreds of millions, and Harry is next in line to lead them  _all._

"If you say so," Harry says uncertainly.

Arthur claps him on the shoulder and speeds back up.

"In any case," he adds, "your connection to the Clear is  _very_  strong. It took a long time to develop my telepathy to the point where I could influence even the smallest fish, but you're coming along much faster."

Harry smiles at that. The few training sessions he's had with Arthur are by far his favorite. Part of it is of course that he gets to spend one on one time with him, but the greater part is that Arthur takes him out far into the ocean, showing him some of the greatest underwater wonders. It's a reminder of how beautiful his new life can be, that he will see sights that are never be seen by most of the world's population. On one of their trips he'd even taken Harry back to Amnesty Bay to show him properly around his home town.

"Thanks."

"Now all we need to do is pair you with a beast," Arthur says confidently. "Just a matter of time."

Harry lets out a sigh. Arthur perked him up with a compliment, but with that comment reality's quickly crashing back down on him. He's met with almost thirty different beasts now, but Jurok Byss is still adamant that none are right for him. Despite claims that there's no reason to worry, their faces still suggest otherwise with every failed attempt.

They continue on for the next few minutes in silence until Poseidonis comes into view. "I have some business at the Council Chambers if you don't mind waiting," Arthur says. "It'll only take a few minutes."

"That's fine. I'll wait."

It only takes them another couple of minutes to speed over the rest of the city and arrive near the summit of Mount Nysos at the Council Chambers. "Wait here for a minute," Arthur says when they land on their feet on the inside of the barrier. "I won't be long."

Harry nods as Arthur heads up the stairs. As always, the Council Chambers building is bustling with people. Some give him a small bow as they pass. He's still not quite used to it.

"He's only been here a couple of weeks!" Harry hears a voice coming from a room off the foyer on the opposite side of the room.

_Is that Vulko? Is he talking about me?_ He's still not quite used to be able to hear so well, but he's getting the hang of being able to focus it better. Hesitantly, he makes his way closer.

"He's soft. Too much surfacer in him," a second voice says.

_Zeekil Neol._ Harry's only met the High Lord of the Armies a couple of times since the first council meeting, but only for a few minutes at a time.

"King Orin was much the same when he arrived," a third voice says, "but he'd been around the seas all his life, even if it wasn't in Atlantis. I agree Neol, the young Prince seems much too soft to become a strong King."

_That sounds like Carcharodor._ Like Zeekil, Harry has only spoken to the Mistress of the Fleet in passing.

"Neither of you know him well enough to make such comments, nor is it your place to make them," Vulko argues.

"No, but I am allowed an opinion on the matter. I don't believe that more pro-surfacer sentiment is what is needed, and that is all the Prince will bring. Even the King's…  _progressive_ stance has caused some unrest in the lower trides," Carcharodor says.

"I agree. We should be encouraging the King and Queen to have a baby of their own. Prince Harry is the current heir, yes, but he is not yet the  _Crown_ Prince, and a full-blooded Atlantean would be better suited for the throne under the current circumstances," Zeekil says. "Atlantis needs a strong heir. The strength of our nation is inextricably tied with the strength of it's future King or Queen."

_I'm not_ _**Crown** _ _Prince? What does that mean?_

"Those are dangerous words," Vulko says, the hint of a threat evident in his voice.

"You know we are completely loyal to the King and Queen," Carcharodor answers quickly, clearly not wanting Vulko to get the wrong idea. "But one day he will be gone, and a strong leader will have to take his place. I'm not sure that young Prince Harry has the right  _constitution_  for it."

It's like getting a punch in the head. Every fear he has about himself and his abilities, and other people have them too. People of authority, no less.

"I won't listen to this any further. King Orin is still young, and whether the chosen heir or the only heir, Prince Harry is right now still next in line for the throne. No matter your opinions, you can't change that fact, and I wouldn't advise trying," Vulko says.

Harry scrambles backwards in a panic as he hears someone moving towards the exit to the room. He tries to look nonchalant as Vulko emerges, but judging by the shocked look on the elderly man's face, he's not quite as successful as he'd hope.

Vulko approaches him, putting a hand gently behind his shoulder and guiding him over to a secluded corner of the room under the stairs. Neither of them say anything for several long moments, but it's Vulko who breaks the silence. "How much did you hear?"

Harry looks purposefully away. "Enough," he says eventually.

Vulko lets out a loud sigh. "You're probably getting sick of hearing this, but I don't want you to worry about what you just heard."

Harry scoffs.  _How am I supposed to not worry?_

"Harry, your Father went through much the same doubt when he first arrived in Atlantis," Vulko says firmly. "This isn't unexpected."

Harry shakes his head. "My Father was able to prove himself."

Vulko nods emphatically, somehow agreeing with his argument. "Exactly! And you will do the same, but it's not a race." He pauses for a moment, looking Harry carefully in the eye. "Do you remember what I told you about Atlanteans in one of our first lessons?"

"You've told me  _many_ things about Atlanteans," Harry answers matter of factly.

"True, but I'm referring to the nature of most Atlanteans. I told you that we are a hard people - unyielding. That goes double for military types like Zeekil and Carcharodor. What they respect most is  _strength._ I am beyond certain that one day you will have the chance to show them yours."

Harry looks up and over Vulko's shoulder when he sees Arthur approaching from behind his white haired teacher. He steps over next to Harry to face Vulko.

"What are we doing skulking over in the corner?" he asks. "Everything okay?"

Harry shakes his head slightly, out of view of his father who's looking straight at his advisor.

_The last thing I need is Arthur making a big deal about this._

"Of course, my King," Vulko bluffs, thankfully honoring Harry's wishes. "Just having a quick chat with my student." As Vulko walks away, he can't help but feel that the man had missed the point.

_I'm not worried about what Zeekil and Carcharodor think. I'm worried because I think they might be_ _**right.** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last couple of chapters before things blow up. We're getting close to the real beginning of Harry's story.
> 
> Also, yes, I know that James and Lily got together in seventh year, but in this story, they didn't get together until the year after they graduated Hogwarts.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who continues to read, and especially for those who take the time to review.


	10. The Ninth Tride

**Chapter 10 - The Ninth Tride**

 

Harry deflects the blow from Tula's sword with a twist of his Trident. The room rings with the sharp sound of metal on metal.

Tula tries to back off, but Harry presses his advantage, jumping forward and thrusting out, magically blunted prongs headed straight for her armored torso. She manages to materialize her shield in front of her just in the nick of time, but the strength of Harry's blow still sends her sailing back into the wall, hard.

Were she not Atlantean, it would definitely have broken bones. Even so, she will definitely have bruises to show for it. But pain doesn't stop an experienced Atlantean soldier, especially one of the Drift. Immediately she's moving again, dancing smoothly out of the way of Harry's next blow and smashing her elbow into his face.

"Uhf!"

The blow knocks him to the ground, and his Trident clangs onto the floor. But Tula's been training him for nearly two months now, and where he once might have hesitated, now he springs back, flipping his entire body backwards with both hands planted on the ground before landing back on his feet in time to parry a blow with his resummoned Trident.

Unlike the first few weeks of his training, these spars last longer and longer, and now Harry's not the only one walking away with bruises. Still, Tula refuses to be defeated fully, to Harry's endless frustration.

Tula laughs as she gets a solid kick into his ribs, knocking Harry to the side once again. Like the entire past week of their fights, Harry seems on the verge of victory before Tula pulls some move he's never seen or thought of before, and she's ripping the win out from under his feet.

"Didn't see that coming, did you?" Tula asks, looming over him and holding out her hand.

_I'm not falling for that again._

Harry raises his eyebrow at the hand outstretched in front of him. She may have gotten him before with that trick, perhaps even more than once, but he's learned better than that, now. While the fight is on, she is his enemy, not his guard. It's a lesson that's been forced into his head by many painful blows.

Tula shrugs, seemingly believing it was still worth a try. She waves a hand through the air to vanish the barrier of their combat training room, the same thing she does every day to signal the end of their session. When she offers her hand again, Harry takes it, and Tula effortlessly pulls him back to his feet.

"I almost had you that time," Harry grumbles, letting his Trident turn back to water and vanish from his grip.

Tula laughs. "Are you sure I didn't just let you think that? Lesson eight - A good war-"

"A good warrior lets their opponent think they have the upper hand," Harry finishes, repeating the lesson Tula taught weeks prior. "But I don't  _think_ I had the upper hand, I  _know_ I did."

Tula shrugs. "On the day you finally beat me, I'll actually believe you," she says. "But don't count on that happening anytime soon." With a smile, she gives him a couple of mock slaps on the side of his face as she passes. Harry rolls his eyes and follows her out of the room.

"You'll eventually run out of tricks, then you're mine," Harry says confidently.

"Whatever gets you to sleep at night," Tula says. "But I think you're underestimating just how many 'tricks' I've got."

"Are you done, then?" the gruff voice of Commander Murk approaches. He's flanked by Garth.

Tula dips her head respectfully. "Yes, Commander. Do we have a mission?"

Harry knows why she's asking. He was  _meant_  to go with Tula to the Silent school for his next lesson with Garth. If Garth is here instead, then something must be happening.

"Aye. Trenchers have been spotted near Hy-Brasil," Murk answers. "The King wants us to investigate."

"Trenchers  _again_?" Harry asks. There's been alot of talk of them since the creatures of the deep attacked them during the meeting with Dumbledore. According to Vulko, before that day the trenchers hadn't been seen for almost a century, and they'd been believed extinct. They're an old adversary of Atlantis; mindless creatures that come from the deepest and darkest corners of the ocean floor. If the science centre hadn't confirmed it was them from the bodies recovered from the surface battle, nobody would have believed in their return.

But now there's been numerous sightings of them just in the past few weeks. Always Atlantean forces investigate, only to discover empty water. It's not just that the trenchers aren't there, it's that the water is completely  _empty._ All the fish missing - no life at all left living. Harry can remember the feeling the Clear gave him of them, of the ravenous hunger these creatures feel. Such creatures aren't likely to leave traces of life.

"Yes. And near Hy-Brasil this time. That's about as far from here as you can get. If they've been seen there, then their numbers are far greater than we initially thought," Garth answers for the Commander.

Harry knows from his lessons with Vulko that Hy-Brasil is a small Atlantean city located between Australia and Antarctica. That means that what Garth has said is true. If Trenchers have been spotted even on the opposite side of the planet, their numbers must be great indeed.

"We have to leave, now," Murk says impatiently. "Prince Harry, Vulko is waiting for you downstairs. He'll be taking you for the rest of the day."

"Right," Harry sighs. "Good luck." He can't help but be deflated. He's not expecting to be able to go with them while he's still in training, but when his guards are off on these missions it's just a reminder that he isn't really of any use to Atlantis, even now.

Harry heads down the stairs into the main area of the Drift, where he spots the white haired Vulko waiting near the entrance for him. He smiles at Harry encouragingly as he approaches.

"Cheer up, Harry," he says. Of course Vulko would try and comfort him. He's really the only person in Atlantis that knows the extent of the self-doubt that Harry's been feeling, and that he overheard the conversation between Carcharodor and Zeekil Neol. He's tried claiming often that Harry will prove himself, but Harry's not so sure. He's sure he can be strong for himself, but for an entire  _nation_ of people? It's alot of pressure.

"Where are we having our lesson today?" Harry asks. "Back at the Palace?"

Vulko shakes his head, and offers Harry a strange sort of grin. "Not today. Tula spoke with your father yesterday. According to her, you're ready for the lower trides."

_Finally._ Harry's already visited the higher trides of the city, with Tula and Garth there as his guards, and Vulko to show him around and introduce some of the culture. But apparently the lower trides are a little more dangerous and crime-ridden. According to Vulko, the people that live in the lowest tride, the ninth, are the hardest people in Atlantis.

Many of the people who live there are highly respected, known as  _Hadalin,_ who toil endlessly to keep the oceans clean. But there is a darker sect of people there, criminals and thugs and organised crime. Despite countless attempts to root these criminals out, they have always returned.

But its important that Harry know about all the people of Poseidonis, and the best way to understand is to visit. Arthur though had been adamant that Harry be well trained before he visits the lower trides, just so he knows how to properly defend himself should things go wrong. Finally, Tula's assured him that it's time.

"Is he coming?" Harry asks hopefully. Arthur had once said that he wanted to go with him, but since he's nowhere in sight, plans have obviously changed.

"I'm afraid not. With all these sightings of the Trenchers, he and Queen Mera have gone to visit some… bat-person on the surface," Vulko says.

_Batman?_ Arthur had given Harry the impression that as much as the surface believes the Justice League is an official team, their cooperation to defeat Darkseid was merely circumstantial. If Arthur has gone to visit Batman to talk about the Trench, he must be more worried about them than he's let on.

"We can wait for him if you like?" Vulko suggests.

Harry shakes his head. "No, that's fine. I've been waiting to be able to go to the lower trides for  _weeks."_ The higher trides were all amazing and beautiful, filled with art and culture and restaurants. Even if the lower areas of the city are supposedly much dingier, he's excited to see them. Anything new in Atlantis is exciting.

 

* * *

 

Art is different in Atlantis than it is on the surface. Not  _too_  different, still made up of busts and statues and images, but it's more  _magical._ Not like the art at Hogwarts, which is still just animated muggle paintings, in Atlantis the art is  _made_ of magic, and the fourth tride of Poseidonis is full of it. Instead of paint, the artists of Atlantis use pure magic as their medium, and Harry watches in awe as a glowing image of a coral reef materialises on a building wall, all vibrant, changing colours; almost like a hi-tech hologram. Next to it is a statue of an Atlantean long since dead, her memory kept alive by a dancing statue made of the finest gold.

Not for the first time, it makes him think of Dean, and how much he would love to learn these techniques. He's drawing all the time with his muggle tools, but Harry's heard his Gryffindor friend mention multiple times how he would love to practice art with his magic. The closest that the wizarding world on the surface comes is charming already crafted artwork.

The more time he spends in the city itself, outside of Mount Nysos - the first Tride, the more he comes to love Atlantis. The city of Poseidonis is like a beating heart, the very symbol of strength and beauty that it's meant to represent for the entire nation. Hopefully with Tula giving Arthur her approval that Harry can properly defend himself, he can spend more time in the other Trides.

"You remember why it's important that you see the rest of the city?" Vulko asks, putting on his 'teacher' tone.

Harry nods. "I can't  _serve_ the people if I don't  _know_ the people," he answers, repeating a lesson taught so many times. Vulko has been pushing the idea that it is the royal family's job to serve the people of Atlantis since his very first lesson. It's actually one of the things that has made Harry feel better about  _being_ a royal. The thought of serving the people seems easier than the thought of the people serving him, as if he thinks he's better than them or something. That said, it's still a great deal of pressure that the royal family is meant to serve the people by leading them, so it's still the greatest position of authority.

"Right. But theres another reason to be going to the lower Trides, one related directly to what your father wants to accomplish as King."

_What he wants to accomplish as King?_

"You mean bringing Atlantis and the surface closer together?"

Vulko nods. "In the ninth Tride you'll see some of why that's difficult. It's easier to  _show_ you than to explain it."

Harry follows Vulko as heads further down the city, further down than Harry's actually been. With every tride lower that the city goes, the water get slightly colder, not that it bothers Harry overmuch with the resistance that comes with being a royal. But from the way Vulko hunches his shoulders, he can definitely feel it. If its that much colder even one tride lower than the fourth, it must be genuinely freezing down in the ninth, which is more than a thousand feet deeper.

"How often does he go to the ninth Tride?" Harry asks. "Arthur, I mean. I've been here for almost two months now, and I don't think he's visited in all that time."

Vulko tilts his head to the side. "I'd say the last time was about a year ago. He organised a raid on one of the larger criminal gangs in the area and led the mission himself. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it just seems strange to me that everyone talks about how much worse it is than the rest of the city, but it has the least amount of attention paid to it. Shouldn't it be the opposite?"

Vulko looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "Very good, Prince Harry. You're thinking like a leader. And you're absolutely right of course, in theory. The ninth tride has been the greatest problem in Poseidonis since the reign of your Grandmother, Queen Atlanna. It's a problem that's only grown over time, especially given the progressive change that your father has brought in his time as King. Both Queen Atlanna and your father have tried many tactics to revitalise it, but it's easier said than done. When we get there, you'll see why."

As they swim over the seventh tride, Harry can't help but notice the increase in the number of magical lights in the streets below them. Logically he knows that it's because the ocean is darker the deeper they go, even in Atlantis, where countless spells extend the sun's light to the depths of the city. Still, his royal eyes can see just fine, just another reminder of how different he now is from what he was before Atlantis.

The city keeps dropping down into the eighth tride, but Vulko and Harry still swim high above that, not venturing down into the streets below. It's definitely much colder, here, though even if Harry can recognise the drop in temperature, he still feels quite comfortable. Vulko though has to wave his hand with a wandless warming charm, and in the other he spells a light charm to be held in an outstretched hand.

When they swim over the top of the ninth, Harry can see why it's necessary. The other Trides of the city are fairly evenly leveled, though each one is physically lower than the next, making the city sort of tiered like a wedding cake, with Mount Nysos at the very top. The ninth though is completely different. It's a trench, and it cuts far into the earth, deeper even than Harry can see with his enhanced eyes. The city itself clings to the trench walls, and most of the buildings, if they can be called that, are actually built  _into_  the sides of the trench itself.

"Welcome to the Ninth Tride," Vulko says.

Harry doesn't really know what to say. He can see now why Vulko said its important he see it, and why it's the cause of such major problems for Poseidonis. The trench itself runs around the entire city, and as deep as it goes… People could hide anywhere, and they'd be difficult enough to discover, let alone root out.

"You can see why it's caused so many problems?" Vulko asks.

"It's… huge," he breathes.

"And by far the most populated Tride in the city. There are millions in the ninth Tride alone," Vulko adds. It's easy to believe. His eyes can see far, but even he can't see the bottom. "Follow me." Vulko swims down into the ninth, Harry close behind him.

Harry feels practically invisible in the ninth Tride, and it's not because of how dark it is. It's the sheer  _number_ of people swimming in the trench. He just blends in amongst the crowd, though that would probably not be the case had Vulko not requested he wear a colour other than his royal gold. In the walls of either side of the trench are so many different lights, be they homes or businesses or something else altogether, he's not sure.

Finally after a few minutes swimming, Harry can see the bottom, though he dearly wishes he couldn't. The ocean floor of the ninth Tride is covered in rubbish. Not Atlantean rubbish, which is all magically destroyed, but rubbish from the surface, mostly plastic. Atlanteans are gathering it all together, and Harry can see several magisters spelling them into nothingness, but more rubbish always takes the place of that which is destroyed.

"Those are the Hadalin," Vulko says when they're close enough that he can see as well. "They have what I would say is currently the most difficult job in Atlantis - keeping the oceans clean."

"There's so much… where does it call come from?" Harry asks. It seems a silly question, but seeing the mounds and mounds of rubbish… it seems like too much to come from just the surface, despite the fact that Atlanteans don't use plastic.

"The surface," Vulko confirms. "And this is an incredibly small percentage of the amount that is out in the open oceans. Even if we had a spell powerful enough to vaporise all of this right now, there would be enough to replace it within an hour."

"You say that as though there  _isn't_  magic powerful enough," Harry says. It seems implausible that with all the powerful magic he's seen it Atlantis so far, none exists that can rid them of the rubbish more effectively than he's watching the magisters do now.

Vulko shakes his head slowly. "Yes and no. Sure, there are spells that could destroy it much faster, but not in the right way. The problem with this surface plastic is that it breaks down into microscopic pieces, and even these pieces are toxic, both to us and to the rest of life in the ocean. Just small intake of this plastic is enough to make an Atlantean sick. Some have even died. The spells used to destroy them here do so on an atomic level. No trace left at all."

_No wonder so many Atlanteans have a problem with the surface._

"You understand now why your father's stance on the surface is unpopular?"

Harry nods. "I do, but I can see why he wants to bring us closer to the surface, too. For all that they're concerned, Atlantis doesn't even exist."

"True, but thats going to be of little comfort to a family who has lost someone because they've ingested surface plastics. At the very worst, the people of the surface are considered murderous monsters, at the best, murderously ignorant. You can imagine how some of the people of Atlantis feel about your father being part surfacer. There are many in the ninth Tride who have a saying - there's no such thing as a surface King," Vulko says.

_At least now it makes sense why Zeekil and Carcharodor would prefer a Prince that is fully Atlantean. Me being here only makes things worse…_

"The problems with the surface aren't new. In the reign of your Great Grandfather, King Arion, Atlantis was on the very cusp of war with the surface. Many surface nations had begun testing their largest bombs in the oceans," Vulko continues. "There were no deaths from the blasts themselves, but the fallout was just as damaging. It caused mutations in some Atlanteans in cities nearby the blasts - Atlanteans that are now derogatorily referred to as taint-bloods."

Harry opens his mouth and closes it again, unsure of what to say. The Atlanteans have every right to be angry. It seems like a miracle that there isn't more opposition to Arthur being King. Even more so that Harry's not heard all that much criticism against himself, besides Zeekil and Carcharodor, and he wasn't even meant to hear  _that._

_I wonder how much Arthur has been protecting me from this…_

"That's not to say that everyone in the ninth Tride is in opposition to your father. He's proven himself many times as King, and there are many who believe in him so much that they're willing to give the surface a chance."

Harry frowns. "If that's true, then maybe Atlantis shouldn't be hidden anymore. It seems like most of the problems come from the fact that nobody on the surface believes we exist. Maybe it's time."

Vulko lets out a short laugh. "You are your father's son," he says. "King Orin plans to eventually reveal Atlantis to the surface world, but it isn't quite that simple. Atlantis is old and powerful, and the introduction of our nation could potentially throw much of the world into chaos, not to mention what it could do to our own people. We would be introducing ourselves to a world of potential threats, threats that we are mostly protected from whilst hidden."

_This is so complicated._ From just spending time in the higher Trides of the city, it would be incredibly easy to believe that Atlantis is almost perfect. The ninth Tride reveals the truth, and it almost feels like the problems have been swept under a rug. It's not disconcerting that Atlantis has it's share of problems - he'd have been a fool to believe otherwise. But it  _is_ disconcerting that he is a part of those problems. There's a part of the Atlantean population that doubts him just because he's part surfacer, and he's hurting his father's cause just by being here.

"Harry, I've said this before, and I'll say it again. Your father proved himself to the Atlantean people. The people had the same doubts about him, but he's overcome them in the minds of all but the most stubborn. I am beyond certain that you will do the same," Vulko says, clearly reading the look on Harry's face.

"Maybe," Harry says. "But I wonder if it would be more beneficial for Atlantis if I were to go back to Hogwarts this semester. It starts in a few days…" he drops his chin to his chest. He doesn't  _really_ want to go back to Hogwarts. The only real reason he has to go back are his friends, but he's not lonely in Atlantis. Tula and Garth feel like more than just guards, now, and he has more family than he ever thought he would have. Still, if its best for Atlantis…

Vulko reaches out to grip his shoulder. "I fully believe in you… but you will  _never_ prove yourself to Atlantis by running from your problems. You need to face them head on, and show them the strength that I  _know_ is in you."

Harry looks up to Vulko, about to ask why he believes in him so much, but as soon as he does, it's not Vulko's face that he sees. Vulko is in front of him still, sure, but behind him and approaching fast is another man, with black hair and a short beard. Orm. He has a dead-set determined look on his face.

"Orm?" Harry asks. Before he gets to do anything else though, Orm's upon them, and he throws a heavy punch straight over Vulko's shoulder. It connects directly with Harry's temple, and his vision swirls into darkness.

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit boring, I know, sorry. Still, now I'm up to exactly where I want to be. The next two chapters will be way more exciting.
> 
> We'll have some leaguers showing up either next chapter, or the one after, along with the first glimpse of a young hero the same age as Harry, at least in this fic.
> 
> Thanks to all who reviewed, and sorry about reposting the same chapter the other day. If your curious about the changes I made the other day, I practically rewrote the first two chapters, though the same scenes. It was just a touch in the chapters after, except for splitting chapter 3 into two.
> 
> Hopefully the next chapters come fast. I've been most excited about them since the very beginning, so I'm just as excited to write them.


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